


i know you feel it too (it all seems so untrue)

by lostresidentevilpotter



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/F, but al and alicia still fall in love, lots of death and lots of misery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-09-24 20:01:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 47,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20364286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostresidentevilpotter/pseuds/lostresidentevilpotter
Summary: Turns out, the caravan is a really bad idea. Soon after it forms, people start to die.Or, how Al and Alicia fall in love during the worst of times.





	1. stop worrying over nothing, stop worrying over me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I am back with something that's going to be relatively long and super depressing! This starts sometime around 5x09 with everything before being canon unless I decide to tweak some details but I don’t know. We’ll get there when we get there.
> 
> The title is straight out of Tegan and Sara's song Hell, because this gay bitch is back into Tegan and Sara again. And because of that, every single chapter title will also be Tegan and Sara lyrics. This one's from The Ocean.

She needs June. She must be dying. It feels like she’s dying. Alicia knows how unlikely it is for a twenty-four year old to have a heart attack, but maybe that’s what this is. She can barely breathe, has to struggle for each breath she takes. She flings the door of her truck open and falls to the grass, sending shockwaves of pain through her left wrist when she lands on it. Alicia scrambles to her feet, clutching her left arm against her chest, and she runs to John and June’s pickup. She nearly trips and turns what’s probably a sprained wrist into a broken one, but she regains her balance at the last moment. She catches herself against the truck, slapping her good hand against the driver’s side window.

She scares John Dorie awake and stumbles back as he pops the door open.

“Alicia?” he says groggily. He pushes his hat up, blinks until he wakes up, but Alicia sees the passenger’s seat is empty and takes off before John can do or say anything more. June isn’t there, and Alicia needs June.

The next logical place for June to be, Alicia’s frantic mind tells her, is the van. June’s closest friend in the caravan, if you count John as her fiancé and not as a friend, is Al. Maybe it doesn’t really make sense for June to be with Al in the van at three in the morning, but Alicia has to at least check. The van’s parked close, pretty much the dead center of the caravan. Alicia knows from experience that the back is always locked, so she climbs the steps and bangs her good fist on the metal incessantly until she hears the lock click.

Alicia steps back as the door opens, panting, eyes wide, as Al stands in the entrance. Alicia, despite the clenching feeling in her chest, pauses. This is an Al she’s never seen before. Three a.m. Al wears a disgruntled expression along with only two items of clothing: underwear and a tank top. Her hair is wild, and her hands are clenched into fists, one holding a trench spike. And she looks ready to use it.

“What’s the problem?” Al grumbles. “We better be under attack –”

“Where’s June?” Alicia breathes out.

Al blinks. She leans into the doorframe then gives a half shrug. “Probably in her truck.”

“She’s not.”

“What do you need her for?” Al asks warily.

All this talking is making it harder for Alicia to breathe. She falls to her knees on the steps of the van, and Al startles. She sets the trench spike somewhere inside the van and crouches in front of Alicia, holding her hands out but unsure of what to do. Alicia starts to fall forward and instinctively reaches out to catch herself. All she manages to do is brace herself on her sprained wrist, and Alicia cries out in pain and nearly topples off the steps before Al gets her under the arms and hauls her up.

That makes Alicia panic more than before, but she can’t fight Al off, even though this is three a.m. Al. Al isn’t trying to hurt her, though Alicia’s mind tells her otherwise. No one in this world truly wants to help, no matter what Morgan says. Morgan also said Aikido would help, but instead, she’s more afraid than ever.

“Get in here,” Al says next to Alicia’s ear. Alicia has her bad arm wrapped tightly around Al’s neck even though it sends stabbing pains up her arm. Alicia’s good hand searches for something to grasp onto, but there isn’t much to grab. Alicia settles for a fistful of the back of Al’s tank top as Al lifts her up the rest of the stairs and into the back of the van. Alicia’s frazzled mind absently thinks about how strong Al must be if she can lift her clean off the ground from this position.

“June,” Alicia mumbles into Al’s neck.

“Yeah,” Al grunts. “I’ll get her. Just don’t hurt yourself while I’m gone.”

Al gets Alicia seated in the back where she’d previously been sleeping, as evidenced by the pillow and blankets strewn about from Al’s abrupt awakening. Even though Alicia’s sitting, she hasn’t let go of Al. She doesn’t let go even as Al tries to pull back.

“Alicia,” Al says, not bothering to hide her discomfort. “You need to let go of me.”

Alicia’s grasp slips, but before Al gets far, Alicia manages to snag Al by the tank top, yanking her back. “Wait,” Alicia says shakily. “Please. Don’t go yet.”

Al wears the most dumbfounded expression that Alicia has ever seen on her. Alicia has to admit, it’s fair, though. Here she is, a girl Al barely knows, falling down at her doorstep in pain and refusing to let Al go. And Alicia bets she looks fucking terrified. Whatever the case is, Al very much looks like she’s out of her depths. But nonetheless, Al nods. Al heads for the doors, and Alicia almost protests until she realizes Al’s just pulling them shut. Al crosses to the front of the van and grabs the walkie off the dashboard.

“June, do you copy?” Al says. She waits exactly three seconds before she says, “June. It’s Al. Do you copy?”

After a long few moments, the walkie crackles to life. “Al,” June replies. “What’s going on?”

“I, um, need your help at the van,” Al says. “Hurry, please.”

“I’m on my way,” June assures her. “Hang tight.”

“June’s coming,” Al says, even though Alicia obviously heard the entire exchange. It’s a relatively small, contained space. Alicia nods, staring absently across the van as she cradles her bad wrist against her chest. In the meantime, Al grabs a shirt off the shelf above Alicia’s head and quickly slides it on over her tank top. Maybe she would bother to put pants on if June wasn’t already urgently knocking at the back of the van. Al rushes to let her in, and June’s eyes immediately hone in on Alicia.

“What happened?” June demands.

“I don’t know,” Al says defensively. “She showed up here, like that, looking for you.” Al shakes her head then runs her fingers through her messy hair as June steps past her. “She hurt her wrist for sure,” Al informs. “She tried to find you, but you weren’t at your truck.”

“I was with Grace,” June dismisses. She crouches in front of Alicia, and Alicia’s eyes lock onto June’s face.

“I’m dying,” Alicia whispers.

“You aren’t dying,” June replies. “Can I see your wrist?”

June tells Alicia what she expects to hear. Her wrist is sprained and will have to be wrapped and only used when necessary. They don’t have ice – it’s too hot in Texas for that sort of luxury. June even wraps Alicia’s wrist for her, all while Alicia struggles to keep breathing.

“Why is this happening?” Alicia asks quietly.

“What do you mean?” June asks.

“Why do I feel so – why can’t I breathe?”

Al, who’s been standing off in the corner with her arms crossed over her chest since June first diagnosed Alicia with a sprained wrist, laughs. Both Alicia and June turn to look at her, and Al reins the laughter in.

“Are you telling me you’ve never had a panic attack before?” Al questions.

Alicia looks to June, and June shrugs and sighs wearily. “That could be it,” June admits. “How long has –”

“It started right before I got to the van,” Alicia answers.

“A solid five to ten minutes ago,” Al says. “It should pass soon. Just try to breathe.”

“I’ve been trying,” Alicia says through her teeth.

“And you’re succeeding,” Al says. “Otherwise you would’ve dropped dead by now.”

Well, she’s got a point. Al’s right, though. The feeling, slowly but surely, begins to pass. Breaths come easier. And that means June’s allowed to ask a ton of questions, starting with _how’d you sprain your wrist_?

Alicia winces and averts her gaze from June’s face. “I fell out of my truck,” she says under her breath.

“You fell?” June says.

“Yes,” Alicia snaps. “I just said that.”

June presses her lips together. She doesn’t say anything to Alicia, but she joins Al over in the corner and has a quiet chat with her. The chat only stays quiet on June’s end, because whatever June’s saying gets Al worked up.

“No,” Al says, jabbing a finger against June’s chest. “That’s a terrible fucking idea.”

“Everywhere else is full,” June says, throwing _quiet _out the window and glancing back at Alicia. “And I didn’t think you’d be up for trading.”

“Hell no,” Al spits.

“Take it up with Morgan,” June says.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with Morgan,” Al argues. She body blocks the exit, raising her eyebrows. “This can stay between the three of us.”

“No,” June says. “That isn’t how this works.”

“There aren’t any rules about how this works,” Al scoffs. “Everyone may have silently decided Morgan’s the leader and you’re his second-in-command, but I’m not going to roll over and –”

“It’s not safe, and that’s final,” June interrupts. She turns her back to Al and faces Alicia. “Alicia, I think it’s best you move into the van with Al. Your truck’s an extra vehicle as it is, and when Morgan finds out about what’s happened tonight, he’ll agree with my decision.”

“Wait,” Alicia says, jumping to her feet. “No. I’m not – that’s – I get my truck!”

“It’s not safe,” June says softly. “If you’re having panic attacks…you’ve already hurt yourself.”

“And giving me a babysitter fixes that how?” Alicia asks.

“Whoa, hang on,” Al cuts in. “I am _not _babysitting anyone, thank you very much. That’s why I’m in here _alone_.”

“No offense,” Alicia says, motioning toward Al with her good hand, “but I’ve seen what Al sleeps in, and I don’t want any part of that.”

“No offense,” Al retorts, “but you’re the one who showed up unannounced, woke me up at three a.m., and invaded my personal space.”

“Invaded your personal space?” Alicia says indignantly. “You were the one touching _me _without permission!”

“Touching – what?” June says in confusion.

“I picked your ass up after you _fell _toward me,” Al says. Her jaw clenches, and June pushes a hand against Al’s shoulder to keep her back. “What was I going to do? Let you face-plant on the steps of my van?”

“You could have,” Alicia says.

“Then you’d be yelling at me about how I let you bust your face open!”

“Okay, let’s cool it,” June says. She stays firmly planted in front of Al, because three a.m. Al apparently is in the mood to fight. “Either you two can just accept this as is, or I can get Morgan, and he’ll say the same thing as me.”

“And if I just leave?” Al questions.

June’s lips purse. “Please don’t say that,” she says quietly.

“Maybe you’re right,” Alicia says to June. “Al shouldn’t be alone, since she’s so ready to run at any given moment.”

“And you’re having panic attacks – thinking you’re dying – and injuring yourself in the middle of the night,” Al snaps. “So who’s the one that shouldn’t be left alone again?”

“June, you should move in here,” Alicia suggests. “And I’ll go in the truck with John –”

Al snorts. “She’d never let that happen, Clark, but nice try.”

“I was trying to help us both, but thanks a lot!” Alicia shoots. “We don’t even know each other,” she pleads with June. “Please, I’m fine. I swear.”

June smiles slightly. “Well, it looks like you’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other. I’m going to inform Morgan, then if you need me, I’ll be with Grace. Just holler.”

“How is she?” Al asks. “Grace.”

June hesitates. “Not well,” she admits. “It’s getting worse.” Alicia doesn’t know what to make of that, but Al seems to understand exactly what June means. June glances between Alicia and Al then says, “Help her get all her things from the truck, will you? And keep an eye on her.”

“I’m not a babysitter,” Al says.

“Then don’t be a babysitter,” June replies. “Just be…a friend.”

Al scoffs. “Right. Sure.” As June leaves the van, Al motions toward her bed to Alicia’s left and says, “Throw me my pants. We’re getting your shit now.”

Alicia locates Al’s pants and hands them over, forcing herself not to watch as Al slides into them. Al jams her boots onto her feet and grabs the trench spike. She pauses in the doorway, but Alicia guesses what she’s going to say.

“I’m not staying here,” Alicia says. “It’s my truck. If I have to abandon it, I’m clearing it out first.”

“Suit yourself,” Al says. Her eyes graze down Alicia’s body, and her eyebrows pull together in confusion. Before Alicia can ask her what the fuck her deal is, Al asks, “Are you armed?”

Alicia hesitates. She looks down at herself because honestly, she doesn’t know. She woke up from that nightmare and fell out of the truck so fast, she didn’t bother to check. There’s nothing concealed in her T-shirt; she knows that much. Alicia’s belt is empty, and the pockets of her sweats turn up empty, too. She’s totally unarmed.

“I don’t kill things anyway,” she says weakly.

“Not carrying a weapon is just straight up stupid,” Al says. She grabs a sheathed knife off a shelf and tosses it Alicia’s way. Alicia only just catches it against her chest with her good hand but nearly drops it anyway. She hasn’t killed anything in exactly thirty-five days. “Come on,” Al orders, waving Alicia along. “Let’s make it fast so I don’t have to talk to Morgan at four in the morning, yeah?”

“At least you aren’t in your underwear anymore,” Alicia quips, trailing behind Al on the way to her truck.

Al throws a glare over her shoulder. “You know what?” Al says. “I didn’t see you complaining while you were mid-panic attack.”

“Because I was mid-panic attack.”

“Well, you better get used to it, sweetheart,” Al says. “You’re gonna get an eyeful every night from now on.”

Alicia makes a face, but her heart starts beating faster. She’s almost afraid she’s about to be launched into a second panic attack, but the feeling fades as they reach her truck. Al yanks the driver’s side door open, but Alicia pushes her out of the way and takes over. She grabs her backpack first, slinging it over her shoulder, then points out everything that needs to go.

Al complains about carrying most of Alicia’s shit the entire time, complains about being stuck in her van with a bitch she barely knows – even after all this time. Really, Al complains about everything, and Alicia stays silent. She figures Al will get it out of her system and they can start over in the morning.

*

Alicia falls asleep at five in the morning and wakes up at six. Morgan knocks on the back of the van until Al stops yelling at him to go away and gets up to open the damn door. In her underwear. Alicia only knows that because she finally opens her eyes, and they land right on Al’s ass. Alicia quickly tears her eyes away, though, and spots Morgan in the doorway.

“Do you know what time it is?” Al demands. “It’s too fucking early for this, Morgan!”

“Relax,” Morgan says. “I’m here for Alicia.”

Alicia groans, pressing her good hand over her eyes. Her other wrist aches constantly, and her head hurts from her lack of sleep. “Not today,” Alicia says. “Please.”

“She’s hurt,” Al says. “I thought June talked to you.”

“She did,” Morgan says. “But we have a routine.”

“At six in the morning?” Al questions. “Are you two fucking crazy? I’m getting a six a.m. wake up call from now on?”

“Normally Alicia is on time,” Morgan says calmly. “You can go back to sleep, Al.”

“I barely slept,” Alicia argues weakly. “I can’t even use my wrist –”

“I’ll go easy on you,” Morgan promises.

“Jesus, just make up your minds,” Al grumbles. She returns to the seats she converted into her bed and pulls the blankets over her head. “And close that door,” Al adds.

Alicia, despite every bone in her body protesting, gets up and joins Morgan for their early morning Aikido lesson. Really, she just watches Morgan, because she can’t do the movements with one working arm. Alicia would be lying if she said she didn’t doze off a few times from her spot beneath the tree, but Morgan always has to fucking say something that wakes her right back up.

That’s how it happens.

Alicia’s mostly asleep. It’s deathly quiet, because the first caravan members don’t wake up until around eight, usually. Alicia’s having a great nap in the shade under the tree – and for once, it’s dreamless sleep. Or if she’s dreaming, she doesn’t remember a goddamn thing, thank God.

Her eyes pop open and her heart stops when Morgan screams. Fear grips Alicia as her eyes lock onto Morgan – and on the walker with its teeth sunk deep into Morgan’s shoulder. Morgan’s stick is in the grass, far out of his reach. Alicia scrambles to her feet as Morgan tries to wrestle the walker off of him, and Alicia’s eyes search for a weapon other than the stick.

The thought of killing something sickens her, but she pushes it aside. Fuck her new principles, she guesses. She remembers the knife Al had forced her to take, sheathed at her belt, and she yanks the blade free. The walker releases its mouthful of Morgan’s shoulder as Alicia approaches. Its jaw hangs open, but it doesn’t make a sound. Its throat is mangled, so its vocal cords are probably ripped to shreds.

Alicia doesn’t hesitate to slam the blade through its forehead. And it feels…natural. It feels right. The body hits the grass unceremoniously as Morgan clutches as his shoulder, bleeding profusely even through his two layers of clothing. For a moment, Alicia and Morgan just stare at each other, wide-eyed, jaws slack.

“What now?” Alicia whispers. She flinches at the blood that’s absolutely pouring out of Morgan’s shoulder, at the wound that seals his fate. Morgan doesn’t seem to have an answer. The shock hasn’t worn off – it probably never will. In that moment, though, Alicia is reminded yet again of how vulnerable they all are. Every single one of them. No one’s safe, and most of them will die with a set of rotting teeth in their flesh.

“We need to go back,” Morgan says.

Alicia grabs him by the sleeve of his jacket, stopping him from passing. He can’t really resist. He’s forced to hold onto his shoulder so he doesn’t bleed out, and it’s clearly causing him a tremendous amount of pain, no matter how good he is at keeping it from showing on his face.

“You can’t go back,” Alicia says softly. “The caravan’s full of people, of kids, of our _friends_. You can’t put them at risk like that.”

Morgan stiffens. “What are you going to do, Alicia?” he asks coolly. His eyes drop to her left wrist, wound in bandages to help support it. But they also flick to the knife still in her other hand, slick with the walker’s blood. “That walker was your first kill in thirty-five days,” he reminds. “Killing a person is different than –”

“I know,” Alicia interrupts harshly. “I know what it’s like to kill someone.”

Morgan nods. “Then it should be you,” he says. A smile flickers on his face. “You are my student, after all.”

Alicia shakes her head. “No,” she says. “It shouldn’t be me because I’m your student. It should be me because I’m willing to do whatever it takes to live. And letting you live puts that at risk.”

He couldn’t fight her off if he tried. It takes one swift, precise movement, and Morgan falls. The knife slips from Alicia’s hand, but it doesn’t matter. She hits the grass hard on her ass, but this time, she carefully protects her injured wrist. Alicia doesn’t know how long she stays on the ground, flanked by two unmoving bodies, one with the blade of Al’s knife sticking out of the side of its head.

Alicia doesn’t even realize she’s crying until Luci and Victor find her curled beneath the tree. Luci’s quick to check Alicia for injuries; Alicia knows she’s looking for a bite, but she doesn’t hold it against Luci. Luci gently touches her fingertips to Alicia’s cheek, and they come away wet.

“It’s okay,” Luci murmurs. “We’ll take care of it.”

Alicia nods and chokes down a sob. Victor puts out a call on the walkie to the rest of the caravan – a coded call, of course. They always just assume Logan’s listening. The team will swoop in to dispose of the walker and bring in the body of one of their own, but Alicia has no fucking clue what’s going to happen. Morgan’s their leader. Everything falls apart without him to guide them. He’s the only one with any idea of how to run a caravan of this size, of how to keep helping people without simultaneously hurting themselves.

Victor has to carry Alicia back to the caravan. She feels numb, even as Victor walks past all the caravan members that have begun to congregate outside of their vehicles. Alicia only notices two people specifically. Grace has emerged from her truck. She’s only on her feet because she’s got a staff to assist her, and she looks about ten times worse from the last time Alicia saw her.

Then Alicia’s eyes land on Al. She stands on the top step of the van, solemn look on her face, hands jammed into her pants pockets. Her hair pokes out from the beanie on her head, and it’s in that moment that Alicia realizes no one knows who’s dead. No one knows it’s Morgan, except her, Luci, and Victor.

June intercepts Victor and points him in the direction of the van, which is the last place she wants to go. It’s bad enough Al got to see her mid-panic attack last night. Al doesn’t need to see this mess, too. Alicia doesn’t know why she cares if a woman she barely knows thinks she’s a weak, sorry excuse for a survivor – but Alicia cares. She’s already a trembling wreck, and the moment Victor carries her into the back of the van and gingerly lowers her to the side that’s now decisively hers, the shaking gets worse.

“Alicia –” he says, but she waves him off, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Go,” she says. “Please. Go help them.”

Victor nods and sends a worried glance over at Al. Al nods at him in return and motions him along. “Go,” Al says gently, clapping Victor on the shoulder. “I’ll watch her.”

“I thought you didn’t want to babysit me,” Alicia says through her teeth once Al shuts them in the van.

“This is different,” Al says quietly. Though Alicia’s eyes are still closed, she can sense approximately where Al is, standing in the aisle right across from where Alicia’s seated with her knees pulled to her chest. Alicia can feel Al’s eyes on her, but she doesn’t expect the hand that falls on her shoulder. It’s meant to be a comforting gesture, probably, but Alicia jolts like she’s been electrocuted, and Al’s hand quickly retracts.

“It’s okay,” Alicia cuts into Al’s apology. “I just – I thought you were farther away.”

Alicia chances looking at Al, at whatever look might be on her face. And it’s the look on Al’s face that makes Alicia lose it completely. It’s somewhere between sorrow and concern, and it’s fucking heartbreaking to look at.

“Do you know it’s him?” Alicia chokes out. “It’s Morgan.”

“I know.”

Alicia nods then bursts into tears. And the worst part is, they’re not tears being shed for Morgan. Alicia cries for a lot of reasons, but Morgan isn’t one of them. Al lingers awkwardly in the aisle across from Alicia, close enough to touch, but neither dares to try. Alicia’s not even sure she’d want Al to try to comfort her anyway. Al doesn’t get it; she probably thinks Alicia’s crying for Morgan.

Or maybe she does get it, in some weird way. If anyone can understand Alicia, it’s probably Al. If anyone’s lost as much as Alicia has, it’s probably Al.

As Alicia struggles to get the tears under control, to breathe properly, Al carefully lowers herself onto the seats beside Alicia. Close, but not too close. She slips her hands into her jacket pockets, exhales heavily, and stares anywhere but at Alicia, which Alicia appreciates. Al’s just there, but maybe that’s enough. She very easily could have gone up to the front and kept her promise to Victor to watch over Alicia.

“I killed it,” Alicia breathes. The sobs are gone, for now, but tears still spill down her cheeks relentlessly. “The walker that bit him. It’s the first thing I’ve killed in the past thirty-five days.” Alicia’s voice breaks, and her teeth sink into her lower lip. She takes a few deep breaths and closes her eyes as she adds, “And I killed Morgan, too. Your knife’s still in the side of his head.”

Al’s entire body tenses, and Alicia hears her inhale sharply. Alicia doesn’t know what to expect from Al – she doesn’t know Al well enough to even guess at what she might do or say. She opens her eyes and turns her head to look over at Al, daring to meet her gaze. Al’s eyes are unreadable, though there’s definite turmoil all over her face. Al raises her hand, and Alicia almost flinches, but Al reaches around to Alicia’s other shoulder and grasps on tightly.

“It’s okay,” Al finally says. “You did what you had to.”

Alicia finds herself nodding. With Al’s arm already around her shoulders, it’s easy to lean into her. It’s easy for Alicia to rest her head against Al’s shoulder while she concentrates on breathing normally again. Al is really bad at hiding how obviously uncomfortable she is, but Alicia can’t bring herself to move. Al’s grip on her shoulder is as firm as ever, and Alicia figures if Al really wanted to move, she would at least let go.

Al doesn’t let go.

*

Morgan’s funeral is the largest funeral they’ve ever had. Everyone attends, from the oldest member of the caravan to the youngest. It seems like almost everyone has something good to say about Morgan as well. When it’s time for Alicia to speak, every set of eyes on her, waiting expectantly, she freezes. She reaches out blindly with her good hand, and Luci’s there to take Alicia’s hand in both of her own reassuringly.

The caravan is polite. They give Alicia a few moments to collect her thoughts, but even once she’s composed, the words don’t come.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

June clears her throat. With Morgan gone, it seems she’s filling the role of temporary caravan leader. Thanks to her invaluable medical knowledge, she was pretty much second to Morgan, but she can’t do this on her own. The way June leans on John as her support for everything tells Alicia that much. Someone’s going to have to step up alongside June.

“That’s quite alright,” June says. “If you’d like us to come back to you later –”

“It’s okay,” Alicia says quietly. “I already said what I needed to.”

She knows everyone will assume that means she had a real heart-to-heart with Morgan in the moments before his death. Only she knows the truth. But how can she stand here and tell everyone that Morgan was willing to put them at risk? How can she tell them she took his life before he wanted her to?

It’s simple. She can’t tell them. And she won’t.

The funeral finally disbands after what feels like forever, and June gives out the order to move. Alicia supposes no one really likes the idea of setting up camp for the night around Morgan’s gravesite.

Alicia follows Victor and Luci to their truck as the caravan spreads out once more. The kids go back to playing – or in some cases, helping where they can. The older kids, like Annie and Max, do their best to pull their weight. The adults prepare for the inevitable trip, which June and Grace seem to be deciding. Even with Morgan in the ground, life goes on.

“What happens now?” Alicia asks.

“Now,” Victor says, slapping his hand against the hood of his truck, “now we move.”

“I mean without Morgan,” Alicia clarifies.

Victor smiles. “There’s a lot of people here, Alicia. I’m sure June can find someone to lead alongside her.”

Alicia shakes her head. “Morgan was the one who was good at finding people to help, though, and actually helping them.”

“Sweetie,” Luci says, “Morgan was _terrible _at actually helping them. He stepped on an active landmine. He got us to crash a plane. Morgan was desperate to help, no matter the cost.”

Alicia blinks. “I thought you agreed with him.”

“I agree that we should help where we can,” Luci explains. “Not that we should run suicide missions to try to save people who don’t even want our help.”

“Maybe don’t say that around Tess,” Victor suggests. “She might take offense.”

Luci rolls her eyes. “Whatever,” she says. “It’s true.”

Victor shrugs and says something about going off to help John make sure the caravan is ready to go before walking off. Alicia leans back into the truck, staring off in the direction of the van. When the caravan moves out, Alicia will have to be in there with Al until they find a place to settle for the night. And even then, Alicia has to stay in the van with Al all night long.

“I’m going to be spending a lot of time with Al,” Alicia blurts. “Thanks to June and Morgan, and Morgan’s not even alive anymore.”

Luci laughs. “I was going to ask if you’re okay,” she says. “But I think I have my answer.”

Alicia cracks a smile. “I’m just tired now. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I noticed,” she says. “You hurt your wrist.”

Alicia hesitates. “I fell,” she mutters. “It was stupid.”

“It happens,” Luci says. “I just didn’t know you were clumsy.”

“I’m not!”

Luci grins. “Sure,” she says. “You fell and sprained your wrist but you’re not clumsy. I believe you.”

“I –” Alicia gives up, lets Luci have a good laugh, because she doesn’t really want to explain everything that went down last night anyway. If she does that, she might have to talk about how if she hadn’t fallen asleep at practice, Morgan might not be dead. The caravan would still have a leader who wanted to lead instead of June, who was basically forced into the position, and whoever’s going to come after Morgan.

“Make sure you check in with June,” Luci reminds.

“I know,” Alicia says. “But she’s busy figuring out the caravan stuff.”

Luci shrugs. “Go help her figure it out,” she says. “And have her look at your wrist.”

“It’s a sprain,” Alicia grumbles. “It won’t kill me.”

Luci smirks. “You know what might kill you?”

“What?”

“All the time you have to spend with Al.”

Alicia groans. “Don’t remind me.”

“She seems…nice,” Luci muses. “She’ll be all up in your business, but it could be worse.”

“How?”

“You could be riding with someone a lot less attractive,” Luci says. She laughs when Alicia’s face reddens. “I was messing with you,” Luci chuckles.

“No, you meant that.”

Luci grins. “I saw a lot of Al in that truck stop after June got that pole out of my shoulder. Let me just say, I’m glad it was her holding my hand instead of John or Morgan.”

“Oh my God,” Alicia says. “I’m leaving this conversation.”

“Don’t go far,” Luci warns. “We should be leaving soon.”

Alicia pauses. “Do you want to trade?” she offers. “I’ll move in with Victor, and you can be in the van with Al.”

Luci’s eyebrows raise. “Alicia, I love you, but no. Hell no. Good luck.”

*

Alicia returns to the van at the last possible second. The call’s been put out, informing everyone in the caravan to prepare to move, and Alicia’s just rushing up the back steps of the van as cars start to drive off. Alicia pulls the doors shut, spotting Al behind the wheel. Al doesn’t turn to look, doesn’t say anything as Alicia climbs into the passenger’s seat. Al doesn’t speak until they’re on the road with the rest of the caravan.

“You cut it a little close there, huh?” Al says.

“I guess.”

Al grins crookedly, glancing over at Alicia. “Didn’t want to spend any more time with me than necessary?”

Alicia’s face flushes, and she turns to stare out the side window in an attempt to hide it. “No,” she lies. “I know I don’t know you very well, but Luci seems to like you.”

“And you trust Luci,” Al finishes.

“Yeah.” Alicia shifts uncomfortably in her seat, only sparing quick glances Al’s way, never daring to stare too long. “Luci said you stayed with her,” Alicia says before the silence becomes too awkward. “When she was injured in the crash.”

“Yeah,” Al confirms. “To be fair, I crashed the plane. It was my fault she was hurt in the first place.”

“But no one would’ve blamed you for not staying by her side.”

“So?” Al says. “I would’ve blamed me.”

Alicia nods. She relaxes a little. “Are you okay?” she finally asks. “Morgan was your friend or something, right?”

“I don’t know,” Al admits.

“I mean, you don’t seem very upset, so maybe he wasn’t,” Alicia mutters.

Al laughs then pulls the beanie from her head and throws it over her shoulder somewhere into the back of the van. She runs her fingers through her flattened hair then looks over at Alicia.

“Look, Alicia,” Al says. “I’ve known a lot of people. And a lot of them have died or are going to die in the near future. Death doesn’t faze me anymore.”

“How?” Alicia asks. “How does it not faze you?”

Al smiles, but there’s something unsettling about it, something that makes Alicia look away before Al murmurs, “Everyone I really loved is already dead. But I bet you already figured that one out.”

“I assumed,” Alicia corrects. “I didn’t know.”

“I think you knew.”

“Everyone?” Alicia blurts. “There’s no one you care about?”

“I didn’t say that,” Al replies. “But don’t expect me to be sobbing at anyone’s funeral anytime soon.”

Alicia lets them lapse into silence. This conversation’s giving her a headache, and she’s got enough pain on her plate from her wrist. June had offered her pain pills earlier – nothing strong, nothing addictive – but Alicia still rejected them. Someone else might need them later. Someone with serious injuries.

Al, thankfully, puts on some music. Nothing Alicia really cares for, but it’s better than straight up silence. And it’s better than having to actually talk to Al. Luci may be right in that Al is nice to look at, but Alicia likes her better when she’s not talking.

*

They drive forever. By the time they reach their destination, Alicia’s been napping for the past three hours, and Al has to shake her awake.

“We’re here,” Al informs.

“So?” Alicia grunts.

“So,” Al says, “with Morgan gone, someone’s got to secure the perimeter, set up a watch system, and all that shit.”

“And?” Alicia questions. She rubs at her eyes with her good hand and locates Al’s face in the waning sunlight.

“And that’s us, sweetheart,” Al says. She winks, just to be an asshole, Alicia supposes, then steps out of the van, leaving Alicia no choice but to follow after her.

“What do you mean _that’s us_?” Alicia demands, slamming the passenger’s side door shut. She jogs around the van to join Al. Al pulls the trench spike from her jacket and quickly looks Alicia over.

“You’re not armed,” Al says flatly.

“I lost your knife to Morgan’s head,” Alicia says sourly.

“There are more knives,” Al dismisses. “Let me get you one.”

“I don’t want one,” Alicia says, grabbing Al by the arm to stop her from returning to the van.

“You need a weapon.”

“I want my barrel,” Alicia says. “So I’ll get it from Victor, and you go take care of the perimeter or whatever.”

“That’s not how that works, honey,” Al replies. Her back straightens out, and Alicia kind of hates how the few extra inches that Al’s got on her seem more pronounced. “You get the barrel,” Al says, “then you meet me and June at John’s truck.”

“The perimeter isn’t my job,” Alicia insists.

“It wasn’t,” Al says. “But with Morgan gone, it’s going to fall on us. I can guarantee you that. So go get your barrel and meet me and June at the truck.”

Alicia huffs. “You aren’t my fucking boss.”

“And you weren’t my fucking problem, but June has made it so you are now,” Al replies. Ouch. That one stings a little, and Alicia seethes in silence as Al takes off for the Dorie truck. Alicia grumbles to herself on her walk over to Victor and Luci’s truck, and Victor, surprisingly, hands over the gun barrel without a fight.

“Good to have you back,” Victor says.

Alicia tips her head in acknowledgement, but honestly, she’s not sure if it’s good to be back or not. The gun barrel is a familiar weight in her hands, something she didn’t know she missed until right now. Even so, holding it makes her feel…afraid.

She hooks it on her belt and takes her time walking over to the Dorie truck. June and Al stand in front of the truck, discussing something that they immediately stop talking about the moment Alicia’s within earshot.

“Alicia,” June greets. “There’s work to do.”

“Now that Morgan’s gone,” Alicia says. “It’s our problem now, huh?”

Al rolls her eyes, but June merely nods. “I was hoping you and Al would be so kind as to assist me as we all begin to adjust to our new situation.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Alicia says. “If it’s got to be done, we’ll get it done.”

*

Securing the caravan’s perimeter turns out to be disgustingly tedious work, and doing that work with Al doesn’t make it any better. They have to check in with everyone at every vehicle and get the vehicles arranged in a way that leaves the interior of the circle relatively safe from intrusion. Mostly from the dead. Nearby buildings, when there are some, need to be swept, but thankfully, they’re in an open field surrounded by nothing but a stretch of backroad and grass. Frankly, this is probably one of the easier perimeter checks, and Alicia can’t stand it.

June’s busy checking on Grace, who only keeps deteriorating, especially now that Morgan’s gone. She hadn’t taken the news too well, apparently, but that’s just what Alicia heard from Victor who heard it from John.

“Are we done?” Alicia asks. It’s the first time she’s spoken directly to Al since they were back at the van.

“With the perimeter,” Al answers. “We’ve got to check in with June.”

“I thought she was with Grace.”

“She is.”

“We’re going to bother her?” Alicia questions.

“Now that the perimeter’s secure, yeah,” Al says. “We’ve got to assign someone to be on watch at all times, and then I’m going to bed.”

That’s a good sign, at least. If Al’s going to bed, then Alicia can go to bed, too. Even if it’s in the same space as Al. Alicia follows Al over to Grace’s truck and hangs back as Al approaches the truck and raps her knuckles against the window. After a few moments, the door swings open, and June steps down.

“Perimeter’s secure,” Al says. “Do you know who’s night it is to be on watch?”

“Daniel and Dwight,” June says immediately. “Let them know, make sure they get set up properly, and you two can turn in.”

“Got it,” Al says. She waves Alicia along. “C’mon. One more stop then we’re done.”

At least Daniel and Dwight don’t complain about having to be on watch. They just retrieve their guns and climb atop their vehicles. Al makes a beeline for the van once Daniel and Dwight are set up, and Alicia has no choice but to follow or be left out in the dark for the night. Al waits for Alicia to join her in the van then locks them in, double checking all the doors and windows as Alicia settles across her row of seats. She removes her boots, but she’s not about to change while Al’s here, so she’s stuck sleeping in her jeans.

Al has no shame. Once she’s positive the van’s all locked up, she starts shedding layers. It’s a warm night, so Al pushes all her blankets aside and sprawls out across the seats in her underwear and a tank top. Alicia won’t complain out of fear Al will take the tank top off if she says something, but the tank top doesn’t exactly leave too much to the imagination as it is.

Alicia shouldn’t be thinking about this. And she shouldn’t be glancing across the aisle at Al every few minutes. Al knocks out fast, cheek pressed to the cold metal since her pillow joined the blankets on the floor. It’s been a while since Alicia slept in the same room as someone else, let alone a rather cramped van that’s pretty echoey. And she barely knows Al.

Even so, Alicia realizes while she lies on her back in the dark, she knows the most important things about Al. She knows Al’s willing to step up to help the group. She knows Al, as much as she can be a pain in the ass, was willing to sit with her when she was upset. She knows Al stayed by Luci’s side when she was needed.

She knows Al won’t hurt her.

At least, not intentionally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess badass Alicia is back, and I think I’ve made it pretty clear how I feel about Morgan lol.
> 
> Anyway, as of right now, I'm shooting for 8 chapters. We'll see how that goes. Also, I'm about to start school, so who knows what the updates are going to be like. The quicker I get this written and published, the better, though.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts/questions/concerns in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


	2. don't move so slow

Alicia’s unwanted presence does nothing to prevent Al from immediately knocking the fuck out. If Alicia’s going to kill her in her sleep, then so be it. But Alicia doesn’t strike Al as the type, especially because she freaked out over killing a walker for the first time in thirty-five days. Plus Alicia’s sprained wrist is definitely causing her some pain; June had told Al earlier that Alicia was refusing medication.

So Al isn’t worried about spending an entire night locked in her van with Alicia. As much as she’d rather be by herself, she could’ve been placed with someone worse. At least, that’s what she tells herself. She could be here with Dwight. Or twenty children. When you put it that way, Alicia’s not so bad.

Al has her reasons for wanting a space to herself, just like she’s sure Alicia has reasons for wanting the same thing. Alicia being across the van does nothing to ward off the dreams. Sometimes they’re just dreams. Sometimes they’re nightmares, and sometimes, Al wakes up disoriented, so sure it was real.

Al falls asleep moments after her cheek presses to metal, but that’s not a blessing. She knows there are caravan members that would kill for the ability to close their eyes and sleep, no matter what that sleep brought, but Al would rather lie awake. She never knows who she’s going to see once her eyes are closed. In the beginning, it was almost always Jesse. Even after all this time, she still hasn’t forgiven herself for that. When it wasn’t Jesse, it was her girlfriend. Maybe that wasn’t Al’s fault, but it’s never stopped feeling like it is. They’ve made less appearances in Al’s dreams since Isabelle, though, which is just one more thing she can’t forgive herself for.

Tonight, unfortunately, happens to bring one of the dreams that feels more like Al’s living it. It’s like she’s back around that campfire they’d set up overlooking that cliff they’d nearly fallen off of. It’s like she has another chance to do it all over again, and Lord knows she’s do it differently if she could. Not that doing anything differently would have made any difference, but her mind encourages her to try anyway.

So Al’s sitting in front of the fire, and she swears she can feel the warmth radiating off of it when she holds her hands out toward it. Everything is calm. The crackling of the fire is soothing, and when Al looks to her left, there’s a beer held out toward her. Al smiles and reaches for it. Whatever it is, it’s got to be better than what Sarah’s been trying to brew. Al gets her fingers around the bottle, but they brush against someone else’s hand, and Al’s eyes lift from the bottle to the person.

She doesn’t know why she’s always surprised when her eyes land on Isabelle. She doesn’t know why she always wears a deer-in-headlights look as Isabelle smiles gently and continues to hold onto the bottle with Al. Al doesn’t know why she has so many things she wants to say but never gets any of the words out. This is supposed to be her second chance, and she’s blowing it. Isabelle lets Al pull the bottle of beer from her grasp wordlessly, and Al drinks while her mind screams at her to say something or _do _something. But she stares into the fire and passes the bottle back to Isabelle, and her mouth stays shut.

The beer’s not bad, at least.

Al has never had problems with women before. She’s always been able to at least make her interest known, but now that the world’s over, she freezes up. What the hell? Isabelle’s very likely going to kill her the moment she gets her hands on that tape, so Al should at least _try _to squeeze one last bit of enjoyment out of her life. And Isabelle is here, and she’s pretty, and she’s maybe lightly flirting with Al as it is.

In another life, Al wouldn’t question whether or not Isabelle’s flirting with her. She would know she is, and she would do something about it. But Al stays rooted to the spot in front of the fire, says something stupid about how ugly the world is, and tries to drown herself in beer.

The dream doesn’t always go like this. Sometimes Al musters up the courage to put the beer aside and kiss Isabelle. No matter how the campfire plays out, though, the dream always ends up in the same spot. Al always finds herself standing next to that river with a gun pointed at the back of her head. The ending’s always a surprise, and tonight is no different.

Tonight, Al doesn’t get to experience the end of the dream. The gun’s pointed at the back of her head, as always, but Al is scared awake before she finds out how things are going to go down. She nearly falls to the floor of the van, catching herself only at the last moment. She gets her hand on the trench spike and jumps to her feet, dazed and still half-asleep, heart pounding in her throat. Whether it’s from the current threat or the lingering dream, Al doesn’t know.

Al quickly figures out there is no current threat. They aren’t under attack. No one’s being eaten alive. Alicia’s screaming, but she hasn’t left her spot on the other side of the van. Al’s eyebrows pull together, and she sets the trench spike aside. Al inhales raggedly, pushing a hand through her hair, and slowly approaches Alicia. She’s never had to wake someone up from a nightmare like this. She doesn’t know if Alicia’s going to get violent – and then hurt her wrist even more in the process.

But the screaming’s echoing off the inside of the van, and it’s starting to give Al a headache. And if it goes on, someone will probably come to investigate and assume Al’s murdering Alicia, so Al better do something fast. She’s not going to be able to yell loud enough to wake Alicia, not with Alicia screaming bloody murder. Al takes ahold of Alicia’s shoulders, putting enough weight behind it to keep Alicia from throwing her off or hurting herself, and she shakes Alicia until her eyes pop open.

The screaming dies off. Alicia doesn’t get violent. She doesn’t try to hurt Al or herself. She stares in wide-eyed terror up into Al’s face, breath hitched in her throat, and her right hand grasps onto Al’s bare bicep. Alicia’s fingers dig into Al’s arm hard enough to bruise, and Al winces but makes no move to stop Alicia. For what feels like forever, Alicia stares up into Al’s eyes and breathes heavily. Eventually, her grasp starts to loosen, and her hand falls from Al’s arm.

“I’m sorry,” Alicia stammers.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Al grunts. She releases her hold on Alicia’s shoulder and takes a step back, exhaling. She shakes her head. “So you scream in your sleep but only just had a panic attack for the first time last night?”

“I – yeah,” Alicia admits. She pushes herself up with her good hand and leans back into the van. Her whole body visibly shakes, but Al pretends like she doesn’t notice and drops back onto her set of seats. “I wanted to be alone for a reason,” Alicia says quietly.

Al waves it off, rubbing at her jaw. She still hasn’t shaken the feeling that she’s always left with after she dreams about Isabelle. Since her chat with June – which feels like it happened years ago, even though it’s probably only been a handful of weeks – she hasn’t mentioned Isabelle to anyone. She’s held up her end of the bargain.

“You’re probably not the only one,” Al says. She realizes this probably won’t make Alicia feel any better, but she’s never been good at comforting people. “We all close our eyes and see shit we’d rather not,” Al adds.

“All of us?” Alicia questions.

Al hesitates then nods. “All of us.”

Alicia gets up to grab herself a bottle of water, but before she can attempt to twist the cap off, Al holds her hand out. Without question, Alicia hands the bottle over, and Al opens it for her so she doesn’t have to risk causing any more pain to her sprained wrist. Alicia gulps down half the bottle then returns to her side of the van, taking a seat directly across from Al so Al has no choice but to stare at Alicia if she wants to look up.

“We don’t have to talk about this,” Alicia finally says.

“Is this going to be an every night sort of thing?” Al asks.

Alicia sighs. “I don’t know.”

Al nods stiffly. “Alright then. We don’t have to talk about it.”

Alicia lies down on her back once more, but she doesn’t close her eyes. Al does the same, and she can’t help but wonder if Alicia’s staying awake because she doesn’t want to risk screaming in her sleep again. Al could sleep. She has a knack for knocking out whenever and wherever, but she can’t fathom having to see Isabelle twice in one night. Or worse. The last time she saw Jesse and her girlfriend was in the same night. She lost them both in one dream, and she woke up in a cold sweat and couldn’t stop herself from raiding her stash of liquor.

That stash is long gone by now.

That’s probably a good thing. The last thing Al needs is for Alicia to wake up and find her drunken ass, like, sobbing on the floor or something. Maybe forced sobriety is a good thing after all.

Al knows Alicia isn’t sleeping, and she bets Alicia knows she’s wide awake, too. But neither breaks the thick silence between them. Frankly, Al has nothing to say to Alicia as it is. As much as it hurts to lie there and think about Isabelle, it’s better than sleeping, where she’ll have no control.

As much as it hurts, Isabelle is easier to think about than anything that came before the walkers.

*

Al sits on the hood of her van, camera in her hands, beanie on her head, and everything almost seems right again. But not really. Caravan life is _boring_. Save for the encounters with walkers and the occasional close call with Logan’s crew, Al feels like she’s living the suburban housewife life that she never wanted. Except she’s single and her home constantly moves, so maybe that’s a bad analogy, but Al figures this is as close to suburban life as the apocalypse gets.

So filming it is boring. She’s already interviewed every person in the caravan at least once. For a while, she was so bogged down, she had to turn away people who wanted a second or even third interview. She misses moving around on her own schedule, searching for people without someone dragging her down, without other obligations. She misses meeting new people and bribing them to tell her just a little sliver of information about themselves.

The last person she interviewed was Morgan for that tape he wanted to make to recruit others or whatever. He must’ve died without resolving his issues concerning his family. It sucks, but hey, everyone’s got some kind of shit to deal with.

Al shuts the camera off. June comes and goes from Grace’s truck four times over the course of a half hour. Everyone else seems preoccupied, as usual. Al climbs down from the van, locks her camera in her safe, then strolls over to June’s truck. John’s nowhere in sight, probably off bothering Dwight and Daniel. When June spots Al, she breaks out into a grin and immediately exits her truck.

“Al,” June greets.

“June,” Al returns. She jerks her head in the direction of Grace’s truck. “What’s going on?”

“What?” June says. She puts her hands on her hips, but she’s always been a bad liar.

“With Grace,” Al clarifies. “I watched you drop by her truck four times in less than thirty minutes. So what’s the deal?”

June’s expression darkens, and her eyes dart around. There’s no one within earshot, but June still motions for Al to join her in the truck. Uneasily, Al slides behind the wheel where John usually sits and turns to face June. June presses her lips together then shakes her head, exhaling heavily.

“It has to be acute radiation syndrome,” June says. “There’s no other explanation for her symptoms, and she’s been telling us…you know.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know what to do,” June admits. “I’ve never dealt with anything like this before. I don’t know how to treat it – if it even _can _be treated. It’s terrible, but I’ve just been trying to keep her comfortable, checking in to see if she needs anything.”

“You’re doing everything you can,” Al assures her. “We aren’t equipped to properly help her. I doubt anyone is anymore.”

That isn’t true. Al bets Isabelle and the people where she comes from – wherever and whatever that may be – could help Grace. It doesn’t even cross Al’s mind to make mention of it. Why would she?

“I know,” June sighs. “I just – I feel like I’m failing.”

“Hey,” Al says sharply. She reaches over to grasp onto June’s shoulder as June discreetly dabs at her eyes. “You’re doing more than almost anyone else here,” Al points out. “Especially now that Morgan’s gone.”

June scoffs. “Yeah, that’s just one more problem to be handled, isn’t it?”

“You’ve got me,” Al says. She pats June’s shoulder then pulls her hand back, bracing her elbow against the center console. “And you know Alicia and Luci will pitch in. And you’ve got Strand on John, obviously. I’m sure Daniel will help, if you ask nicely.”

“Do you know how to keep a caravan of this size running?” June asks. “Do you know how to carry on this helping people mission?”

“No,” Al says. “That was Morgan’s specialty.”

“These people responded to that message,” June says. “They want to help others the way we helped them.”

“We have to help ourselves first,” Al says. “We have to find a way to adjust to Morgan’s absence, and then we can worry about everyone else, yeah?”

“And if Logan shows up –”

“We’ll handle it,” Al says. “Like we always do.”

“I’m just already so tired,” June whispers. She presses the heels of her hands against her eyes, and Al reaches for her shoulder again.

“Rest,” Al says. “I’ll watch over Grace for a few hours, and I’ll ask John to watch over the caravan, okay? You need to sleep.”

June nods and lowers her hands from her face. “Thanks,” she says. Her eyes study Al’s face for a moment. “You look like you could use some rest, too. Not sleeping well?”

“I’m adjusting to my new living situation,” Al grumbles. It’s not completely a lie. It’s not the full truth, either, but Alicia’s nightmares aren’t Al’s business. Even if they wake her up at four in the morning from a nightmare of her own.

“Is she doing okay?” June asks. “Alicia.”

“Her wrist needs time,” Al says.

“Not her wrist.”

Al pauses. “She seems fine,” Al lies.

“No more panic attacks?”

“It’s been one night, June,” Al reminds. “She was fine. And if she wasn’t, she didn’t let me know. Why would she? We aren’t friends.”

June smiles. “Still holding that grudge, huh?”

“She tried to kill me. You’d hold a grudge, too.”

“She tried to kill me, too,” June says. “And I’m not holding a grudge.”

Al shakes her head. “Different circumstances,” she mutters. She claps June on the shoulder. “Sleep, okay? I’ll make sure everything runs smoothly.”

“Wake me if anything happens,” June says.

“You know I will.” Al grins lopsidedly. “What? Don’t trust me to run Morgan’s caravan for a couple hours?”

June rolls her eyes. “You know I trust you more than anyone else.”

“Except John,” Al says. She props the door open as June laughs.

“I don’t trust him to run the caravan, that’s for sure,” June replies.

Al smirks. “Maybe your trust in me is misplaced.”

“It’s not,” June says matter-of-factly.

Al shakes her head. “You better get some sleep before one of these damn kids scrapes a knee and needs urgent medical attention.”

“I’m sure you can handle bruises and scraped knees.”

Al shrugs. “Leave the worrying to me.”

She shuts the door and finds John at Dwight and Daniel’s vehicle. Just where she expected him to be. John tips his hat when Al approaches and says, “Ma’am.”

Al smacks him in the chest as the three men have a good laugh. “I’m not a _ma’am_,” Al snaps. John adjusts his hat and grins, dropping his hands to his hips.

“What can I do for you today, Al?” John asks.

“I need a favor,” Al says.

“The good kind of favor or the bad kind?”

“The bad kind,” Al answers. “I need you to watch over the caravan while June’s getting some sleep. I’d do it, but I’m on Grace duty.”

“We can help,” Dwight offers. “You and I can rotate with Grace, and Daniel can help John make sure everything else is running smoothly.”

Al nods. “June’s stressed enough as it is, so let’s not make anything worse for her when she wakes up, yeah?”

“Got it,” John says. “How hard can this be, anyway?”

*

Not hard. For John, at least, because he’s playing cops and robbers with all the kids of the caravan while Daniel takes care of the dirty work. At least the kids are occupied and all in one place, but John could’ve simply appointed one of the other adults to supervise the activity. In fact, many of the adults are gathered around watching as it is, so clearly, John’s more interested in playing a game than running the caravan.

Al can’t blame him, but she needs someone to keep an eye out for walkers or trespassers. And Daniel can’t do everything. Dwight’s sitting with Grace – and when he’s not sitting with Grace, Al is. And Dwight seems fine and all, but Al doesn’t trust him to lead while June’s asleep and she’s stuck at Grace’s side.

Al finds herself walking up to Strand’s truck. Luci spots her first, mostly because she’s on the roof of the vehicle with Al’s backup camera in her hands. She’d been filming the game of cops and robbers, but the camera turns to Al as she reaches the truck. Al’s eyes flick from Luci down to the windshield, where she can just see Alicia napping in the passenger’s seat. Makes sense. Al doesn’t think Alicia ever went back to sleep last night. She’d been gone from the van when Al woke up, and Al was up pretty early.

Strand’s doing some sort of maintenance under the truck, and Al can just see his legs poking out. She doesn’t ask questions, just gets as close to Luci as she can and puts on the most charming smile she can manage. The one that always woos women. She’s not even sure Luci’s into women, but this usually works regardless.

“Can I ask you something?” Al asks.

Luci shuts the camera off and slides off the roof to the hood then hops down to the grass beside Al. She straightens her shirt out and shrugs. “Sure.”

“I need your help,” Al says.

“That wasn’t a question,” Luci teases.

“Can you keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary?” Al asks. “Walkers, other people. That sort of thing.”

Luci’s eyebrows pull together. “Of course,” she says. “Did something happen?”

“No,” Al says quickly. “June’s just getting some rest, and John was supposed to be handling it, but…”

They both look over to the game of cops and robbers. John, of course, is one of the cops, and he’s leading the charge against the robbers. The kids look like they’re having the time of their lives, especially little Dylan. Luci smiles when her eyes land on him, but before long, she looks back to Al.

“I’ve got it,” Luci assures her. “Wait,” she says, grabbing Al by the elbow before she can take off. “What are you doing?”

“Dwight and I are taking care of Grace,” Al says. “And I can’t leave everything on Daniel.”

Luci nods. “You have a walkie?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll call if anything happens,” Luci promises.

“Thank you,” Al says. She almost walks off again but turns back. “Hey, how’s your shoulder been doing?” she asks. “I know it’s been a while.”

Luci grins. “It’s fine,” she says. “Mostly. Every once in a while something goes numb, but it seems like everything’s still working.”

“That’s good.”

“Look at you,” Luci laughs. “Worrying about me.”

Al shrugs. “I mean, it was my fault.”

Luci shakes her head and playfully wags her finger at Al. “Don’t even start with that, Althea. It all worked out, didn’t it?”

“Barely.”

Al’s eyes flicker back to the truck, to where Alicia continues to peacefully nap with Strand’s jacket wrapped around her torso. Luci must follow her gaze or something, because Luci closes most of the distance between them and drops her voice so Strand can’t listen in. Plus the windows of the truck are rolled down, so if Alicia wakes up, she’ll have the perfect opportunity to eavesdrop.

“How is she?” Luci asks, vaguely motioning back toward Alicia.

“She’s as good as you can expect,” Al answers carefully. “After all the shit she’s been put through.”

Luci scoffs. “Bullshit. She’s not even close to good, is she? And don’t lie. I know she screams in her sleep. And after that, she stays awake until the sun rises, right? The only time Alicia _ever _sleeps during the day is after one of those nightmares.”

Al’s eyes must betray her or something, because she doesn’t say anything, and she doesn’t think her expression changes. But Luci nods like she’s got it all figured out then takes a step back, putting some distance between her and Al.

“What do I do?” Al asks.

“Stay,” Luci says.

“Stay?”

“Yes.”

“What do you mean?”

“Stay in the van,” Luci explains. “Stay with her. That’s all you can do. Just make sure she doesn’t hurt herself any more than she already is.”

Al nods, though she walks away feeling like she isn’t entirely understanding Luci’s advice. She passes by John’s truck, glad to see June still snoozing away, and meets Dwight at Grace’s for the scheduled switch off.

“Luci’s helping out,” Al tells him. “I guess John’s handling the kids, but I’d regroup with Luci and Daniel to make sure we don’t miss anything.”

“You got it,” Dwight says.

“How is she?” Al asks.

Dwight hesitates. “She’s not in a good place,” he says. “I did my best.”

Al sends Dwight off, braces herself, then enters the truck and settles into the passenger’s seat. She turns around to face Grace, lying across the seats in the back. Grace looks way worse than the last time Al saw her – which was yesterday. She barely moves, barely acknowledges Al’s presence.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Grace finally says.

“I’m not here to babysit you,” Al replies. “I don’t babysit.”

“So why are you here then?”

“To keep you company.”

Grace scoffs then navigates her way through a coughing fit before saying, “That’s the same thing.”

“Not really.”

Grace exhales shakily and lets her eyes close. “I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Dwight,” Grace says.

“Okay.”

“You should put me down now,” Grace says.

Al’s eyebrows raise. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t have much longer,” Grace says. “I can feel it. I’m a risk to everyone else here.”

“You could get better,” Al says weakly.

Grace opens her eyes just to shoot Al a disdainful look. “There’s no getting better from here, Al. I’m telling you, it’s safer if I die now, on my terms.”

“June can be the judge of that,” Al says. “You should tell her.”

“Don’t you think I have?”

Al sighs. “I’ll tell her.”

“You think that’s going to change her mind?”

“It might,” Al says. “For now, just rest, okay? I’ll be here.”

*

June’s back on her feet around dinnertime, and Al’s relieved of the crushing weight of command for the time being. She waits until June ensures everyone receives their meal then pulls June aside.

“Grace doesn’t think she has long,” Al informs.

“I know,” June says.

“You know?”

“We’re taking it one step at a time,” June says, touching her fingertips to the center of Al’s chest to get her to take a step back and relax.

“She thinks she’s a risk, June.”

“She’s been saying that since Morgan found her,” June reminds. “She’s contained. We’re monitoring her.”

“Or you just don’t want to do it,” Al says. June’s face pales, and Al takes that as a sign that she’s right. “You don’t want to have to kill her,” Al says. “Which is fine. You can say that.”

“Of course I don’t want to kill her,” June hisses. “I don’t want to kill anybody!”

“She’s ready,” Al says. “You’ve seen her. She looks like she’s on her deathbed as it is. She’s exhausted, and losing Morgan hasn’t done anything but make her condition worse.”

“Are you volunteering?” June questions. “Are you going to fill the role of the person who puts down infected caravan members?”

Al presses her lips together as every muscle in her body tenses. This feels like a trick question, but she still answers firmly, “Yes. If that’s what needs to happen, I’ll do it. Now that Morgan’s not here, someone’s gotta step up, right?”

Maybe it’s not a trick. June almost looks…relieved. “Are you sure you can handle that?” June asks.

“No,” Al admits. “But can anyone be sure they can handle that?”

“I guess you have a point.”

“I have one condition,” Al says. “I want a gun.”

June balks. “A gun?”

“I’m not putting anyone down with this.” She pulls the trench spike out of her jacket briefly. "Not happening. They deserve the dignity of a quick, painless death, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” June agrees. “Okay. Get with Daniel and tell him I gave you the okay.”

Al nods. June starts to walk away, but Al calls, “Does this make me your second-in-command or something?”

June turns back and laughs. “There’s a chain of command?”

“An implicit one.”

“Then you’re my implicit second-in-command,” June affirms. “Congratulations.”

“So you’re the medic and I’m the what?” Al questions. “The executioner?”

June cracks a sardonic smile and shrugs. “Guess so.”

Al shakes her head to herself once June looks away. There’s nothing remotely funny about this situation. Al’s not even sure this is a job she can handle. Obviously she doesn’t want this job – no one does – but someone’s got to do it. Damn it, if Morgan could’ve just stayed alive, this wouldn’t be a fucking problem. That dumbass had to take Alicia out for practice when she was injured and running on minimal sleep.

Al forces herself to eat dinner since she skipped breakfast. Dreaming about Isabelle really wipes away her appetite. If she’s not careful, she’s going to start losing a noticeable amount of weight. So she eats dinner. And she works out before bed while Alicia’s hanging with Luci and Strand. She checks in with Daniel before bed and secures herself a nine millimeter Beretta. She locks it in her safe so Alicia won’t see it and joins June for the final perimeter check.

Strand and Luci go on watch, as planned, but Dwight offers to spend the night with Grace instead of with Daniel. June allows it, and Al figures it’s because Grace needs the company. Or she needs to have eyes on her at all times. Maybe Al spooked June earlier. Maybe June’s afraid of what could happen if they leave Grace unsupervised. Al’s not going to question June’s reasoning. If someone’s going to be watching Grace at all times, then so be it. Al may have stepped up to do the dirty work when someone’s infected, but Al’s thinking June isn’t counting Grace.

Radiation sickness seems like a really nasty thing to die from, though. Al can’t help but feel bad for Grace, especially now that she’s lost Morgan – her one real friend – on top of her ongoing sickness.

“Everything good?” Al asks, leaning down to peer through the window of John’s truck.

“Perimeter’s set,” June confirms. “And Luci and Strand are on watch. You’re good to go. Thanks for your help.”

Al nods. “Call if you need anything,” she says. “I’ll have the walkie nearby.”

“Same to you,” June replies.

On her walk to the van, Al wonders how the hell she ended up being one of the people in charge of the caravan. This was Morgan’s project, not hers. If she wants, she can always get in her van and drive off. Once she kicks Alicia out, of course.

Speaking of Alicia, she’s already in the van when Al returns. She’s on her side, sitting with her boots planted on the seats, and she’s unwinding the bandage from around her hand and wrist. Alicia barely looks up when Al enters, too busy inspecting and testing out her wrist.

“Didn’t know you’d be back so soon,” Al comments.

“Victor was ready to sleep,” Alicia grunts. “I wasn’t going to argue about it.”

Al shrugs. She supposes it doesn’t really matter. “Don’t hurt yourself,” Al says.

“I’m a big girl,” Alicia says. She winces in pain then rewinds bandages around her hand and wrist tightly to keep it secured. “It’s not that bad,” Alicia adds.

“You’re just going to prolong the healing time if you keep screwing with it,” Al replies. “It’s kind of helpful to have two working hands when you live in the apocalypse, you know?”

“Funny,” Alicia sneers. “You’ve got a winning personality, Al. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Just my ex,” Al says before she realizes what’s leaving her mouth. The words slip out so easily. Alicia raises her eyebrows, stunned into silence, and Al pauses then decides to act like she never said anything in the first place. The easiest way to get away with that is to start stripping down, so that’s exactly what she does. She yanks her boots off, then her pants, and sheds her shirt before Alicia’s recovered enough to speak again.

“Your ex?” she questions.

“Yeah,” Al says calmly. She gets into her makeshift bed and pulls the blankets to her neck. Last night may have been hot, but tonight’s cool. Not that Al would sleep in anything other than her underwear and a tank top, no matter what the weather. “I dated, once upon a time,” Al adds. “I bet you did, too.”

“Yeah, I just didn’t think –”

“Didn’t think what?” Al cuts in. She turns her head to the side to stare across the aisle at Alicia, who’s only just settling onto her back. She napped half the day; Al doubts she’s going to be able to sleep through the night. Al smirks and says, “Didn’t think there’d ever be anyone out there willing to date me? Is that what you wanted to say?”

“No!” Alicia exclaims. “I guess I never thought about it. And I never thought you’d say anything about it. You kind of don’t tell us much of anything. Except when you told us your last name.”

“I'd had a weird couple of days, okay?” Al mutters.

“I just wasn’t expecting – I don’t know. It’s just weird.”

“What is?”

“Learning anything about you.”

“I’ll try not to let it happen again,” Al says.

“That’s not – you don’t have to do that,” Alicia mumbles. “If you want to talk –”

“I don’t.”

“Hey, I was just trying to be a smartass,” Alicia says. “You’re the one that made it serious and mentioned your ex.”

“And now I’d like to stop mentioning my ex, thank you very much,” Al says. “Go to sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Probably because you napped all day.”

“Because I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I noticed.”

Alicia grimaces. “We can talk about it,” she offers.

“You didn’t want to last night.”

“That was last night,” Alicia says. “This is now. I’ll tell you about it.”

Al’s eyes narrow. “In exchange for what?”

“Tell me what happened with your ex.”

Al laughs, but it fades quickly. “There’s not much to tell, Alicia,” Al says. “She died.”

“All of my exes are dead, too,” Alicia says in the same kind of voice you’d use to say _it’s kind of cold out today_.

“This is a real uplifting conversation we’re having,” Al says flatly. “And as much as I’d love to keep talking about our lost loves, I’d actually much rather sleep.”

“It’s usually my mom,” Alicia says, ignoring Al, “when I wake up screaming. The dream usually has something to do with my mom. Or Nick.”

Al inhales deeply. “I’m sorry,” she finally says.

“Nothing to be sorry about. It’s just how it is. I think – I think killing a walker for the first time in thirty-five days then having to kill Morgan set it off or something.” Alicia sighs. “I don’t even remember the dream, honestly.”

How can she not? It feels like Al can recall every dream she’s ever had about Jesse, about her technically ex-girlfriend, about Isabelle, with perfect clarity. And here’s Alicia saying she woke up screaming but doesn’t remember exactly why.

“I know you can’t control it,” Al says. “And I know it’s going to wake me up, so I’ll do my best to wake you up as quickly as possible.”

“Thanks.”

Al grunts. “Now shut up. I’m trying to sleep.”

*

“Al. Hey! Al! Wake up!”

Al bolts upright, startling Alicia, who quickly releases Al’s shoulder and hops back. “What’s the problem?” Al mumbles, rubbing at her eyes.

“There’s something going on outside,” Alicia says.

“What time is it?”

“Like two, maybe.”

Al throws her blankets back and gets to her feet. God, she hates when shit goes down in the middle of the night. She’s never dressed for the occasion. Al peers out the back window first, just to make sure Alicia’s not yanking her chain. There’s definitely a small gathering at June’s truck, so Al pulls on the nearest pair of pants – sweats that might belong to Alicia, but Alicia doesn’t say anything about it – and slaps a Houston Astros snapback over her messy hair.

“You’re going out in that?” Alicia asks, snagging Al’s arm on her way past.

“What’s wrong with it?” Al questions. “It’s two in the morning. I don’t have to look fantastic.”

“No, I mean – you’re barely wearing a shirt.”

Al blinks. Just because Alicia complained, she slides into her jacket. She pauses a moment then unlocks her safe. She’s glad Alicia doesn’t make some comment about her needing to film something, because she doesn’t go for the camera. She grabs the Beretta. Just in case. Al jogs to the truck with the Beretta jammed into the waistband of the sweats, only sparing one glance back at the van. Alicia stands on the top step, arms crossed over her chest against the cool night air. Everything, though, seems deadly still.

“What’s going on?” Al asks breathlessly.

“It’s Grace,” John says. “June’s working with her right now –”

Al doesn’t stick around to hear the rest of his sentence. She sprints to Grace’s truck to find the back doors flung open. Al comes up on the side that June’s back is to, and without thinking, she reaches in, grabs a fistful of the back of June’s shirt, and yanks her right out of the truck. June stumbles, nearly completely losing her balance and taking both her and Al to the grass. Dwight, Al notices, immediately takes up June’s previous position, hovering over Grace.

“Al!” June cries, shoving Al’s hands away from her. “What are you doing?”

“No, what are _you _doing?” Al demands.

“She’s still breathing,” June snaps.

“So what’s going on then?” Al asks. “What’s with the commotion?”

“Dwight woke me,” June explains. “Her breathing’s been irregular. He thought I should check on her.”

“Is she conscious?”

“She’s been in and out,” June says.

Al shakes her head. “This is enough, June. It’s time.”

June purses her lips. “No one’s gone until they’re gone, Al.”

“She’s gone,” Al insists. “We’ve done everything possible for her. She told me herself she’s ready for this to be over. You can’t force her to stay alive. You can’t help everybody.”

“I can try,” June shoots.

“You’ve tried,” Al tells her. “Now it’s time to let me handle it.”

“June!” Dwight calls. “I think –”

Grace regains consciousness. No, that isn’t right. June yells out, but Dwight’s too slow, too close to Grace to get out of the truck in time. All Grace has to do is roll a little bit, and she’s got her teeth in Dwight’s arm. Dwight cries out, and Al gets her arms around June’s waist at the last second to prevent her from trying to take action. Luckily, John’s skidding to a stop next to them, and Al releases June into his arms instead and pulls the Beretta from her waistband.

She splatters blood across Dwight’s face as Grace falls motionless. The gunshot seems to echo off the trees, and it probably wakes the entire caravan. June’s got both of her hands pressed over her mouth. John keeps his arms locked around June, but he looks beyond horrified as blood pours out of the open wound in Dwight’s forearm.

Al looks to John and June and groans, “Aw, _fuck_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I promised, the chapter title's from a Tegan and Sara song, I Can't Take It. 
> 
> School is right around the corner for me, but I'm going to do my best to update quickly. I'm aiming for 6-8 thousand words per chapter, so it's a little heavy and could take some time. Also I'm not sure 8 chapters is realistic, because I have an entire story planned out (for the first time ever) so it could be longer, but I guess we're going to see.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts/questions/concerns in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


	3. with a bit of focus i'll be under your skin

Alicia runs to Grace’s truck with Luci on her heels. Alicia trips over her own feet and collides with Al, succeeding in knocking them both off balance. Thankfully, neither falls, and Al keeps her grasp on the handgun, but Al shoots her a dirty look once she’s regained her footing.

“There was a shot,” Alicia says breathlessly.

“It’s Grace,” Al says calmly. She holds her hand out toward Alicia and Luci, the one not holding the gun, and adds, “Please don’t get really worked up over this right now. I’m sure the entire caravan’s waking up, and we need to stay calm.”

“She’s right,” June says shakily. “We can’t have a mass panic. We’ve got this under control.”

“Under control?” Luci hisses. “You just shot Grace! And – and _Dwight_ –”

Al shushes her, and Alicia stares wide-eyed into the open back of the truck. June stays frozen in John’s arms, and much to Alicia’s surprise, Al takes charge.

“Get Dwight to Daniel’s truck, _now_,” Al orders John and June. “And don’t take your eyes off of him. Go!”

John’s always got his revolvers on him, Alicia figures. That must be why Al’s sending them with Dwight, who’s clearly got a nasty wound in his arm. A bite wound?

“What happened with Grace?” Luci whispers.

“She died,” Al says harshly. “And she bit Dwight before I could take care of it. Jesus, _fuck_. Everyone’s going to panic.”

“No,” Alicia says. She slams the door to the truck shut then rushes to the other side and shuts that door as well, sealing Grace’s body – and the bloody mess her death made – inside. “They can find out what happened in the morning,” Alicia says. “For now, we’re going to send them back into the vehicles. Mandatory lockdown. Call it whatever. No one leaves their vehicle until we’ve taken care of everything.”

“The situation’s contained,” Al says, eyes flicking toward the truck. She jams the gun into her waistband and shakes her head. “You two enforce the lockdown. Get everyone in their vehicles and get them to stay. I don’t care what you have to do.”

“And what are you going to do?” Luci asks.

Al exhales heavily. “I’m going to take care of Dwight.”

“You’re going to need help with him,” Alicia insists. “Luci can handle the lockdown.”

Al shakes her head. “I won’t need help until after he’s down. We’ll get two graves dug, hold a service when the sun rises, and we’ll move.”

“It’d be better to move as soon as we can,” Luci points out. “That gunshot was loud. Anything nearby definitely heard it. We’ll have company soon.”

“Look, I’m not in charge,” Al says. Her eyes move between Alicia and Luci. “June is. June makes the call, and I know she won’t be up for a thirty mile move at three in the morning.”

Doors are starting to open. People are starting to step out, to ask questions. They’re starting to leave their vehicles.

“Go,” Alicia says to Luci. “Get Victor and handle the lockdown. I’ll go with Al to handle Dwight. Then we’ll all regroup and decide on what to do next, okay?”

Al nods curtly. “Are you armed?” she asks.

In response, Alicia pulls Al’s own trench spike out of her back pocket. For a moment, Al stares at it, dumbfounded, until Alicia mutters, “It was the closest thing.”

“Whatever,” Al dismisses. “Come on.”

Alicia follows Al to Daniel’s truck. Honestly, Alicia was expecting a fight, but when they arrive, Dwight’s seated calmly in the truck bed, hands clasped together in his lap even as blood flows from his arm incessantly. John, June, and Daniel have him surrounded, but he’s not going anywhere. He's not fighting. Alicia’s eyes flick to the knife in June’s hand, figures they must’ve offered amputation as an option, but Dwight probably declined. Maybe he’s seen how that can go wrong. Maybe he’s accepting his fate.

“Luci’s worried about the gunshot,” Al tells June. “She’s worried it’ll draw attention to us.”

“Of course it will,” June replies. “But you didn’t have another choice.”

“We need to move quickly,” Alicia says. “Take care of the bodies. Pack up. Move.”

“I don’t think we can bury them here,” Al admits. “I think we’ll have to take them with us. Find a new spot, bury them, hold a service in the morning once we’re settled a safe distance from here.”

“Al,” John says sharply. He jerks his head toward Dwight. “He’s right here.”

“It’s okay,” Dwight says. “I know what happens now. And it’s okay.” He looks John square in the eye. “If you ever find Sherry, tell her I tried, okay? Tell her I was looking.”

John nods. “I will, buddy. I promise.”

Dwight nods back. Then he looks to Al. “Do it,” Dwight says.

Al raises the gun, finger braced on the trigger, and John, June and, Daniel all avert their eyes. Al’s eyes never leave Dwight’s face, and Alicia’s eyes never leave Al’s. The gunshot echoes, and everyone flinches except Al. Alicia watches Al’s jaw clench, but otherwise, her expression remains neutral. Dwight’s body slumps over, and June quickly appoints Daniel to get the body into Grace’s truck.

“We need to make sure everyone’s accounted for,” June says. “John will drive Daniel’s truck, and Daniel will drive Grace’s. There’s no time for a plan; we’re just going to move. Go vehicle by vehicle and report back. We’re taking off the second we can.”

“What’s with the sudden rush?” Alicia asks.

June merely points off at the trees, at the walkers slowly emerging from their depths. “So hurry up,” June says.

*

Al digs Grace’s grave at the crack of dawn as John digs Dwight’s. It’s already hot, and Al’s already covered in a sheen of sweat. Alicia stands by with Luci and June, even though her wrist prevents her from being in the rotation. Alicia barely manages to tie her hair up. When Al and John tire out, Luci and June take over until the graves are dug.

Funerals are held at nine, followed by the most somber breakfast Alicia has experienced thus far. She sits beneath a large tree with her friends. John and June are too busy holding hands to really eat much. Luci’s laid out on her back, staring up at the cloudless sky, and Victor’s sharpening his knife. Charlie escaped her new friends amongst the youngsters to join them, seated between Al and Alicia. And Al –

Al hasn’t said one fucking word since before she shot Dwight.

Everyone’s stopped trying to make conversation with her. June persisted the longest, but even she has retreated back to John. Since they all settled beneath the tree, Al’s been performing the same action over and over: she loads and unloads the handgun she killed Grace and Dwight with. Over and over. Relentlessly. Alicia watches for a while, watches Al remove every single bullet from the magazine then put every single bullet back in, jam the magazine up into the gun, remove it, and start over. Over and over.

Alicia can’t really see Al’s face, because Al’s got the brim of the Astros snapback pulled down low, shielding her from the rest of the group. Annie wanders over with Max and Dylan trailing behind her to ask Charlie to join them in whatever thing the kids are putting together for today. There’s always some kind of activity going on. Charlie, to Alicia’s surprise, politely declines, opting to stay with her group.

By lunch time, the caravan has moved on. No one really lingers on deaths for long. Even Morgan’s death was put behind them after a few hours. Life just goes on for most of them.

Al unloads the gun. Reloads it. But this time, she switches the safety on and pushes herself to her feet.

“Where are you going?” June asks.

Of course, Al doesn’t respond. She tucks the gun into the back of her waistband and heads off in the direction of the van. June sighs, but Alicia figures she got her answer.

“Is she okay?” Charlie asks.

“Does she seem okay?” Victor replies.

“No.”

“There’s your answer, kid,” Victor says.

Charlie shoots him a glare. “Shouldn’t someone make sure she’s going to be alright?” Charlie asks.

“Are you volunteering?” Victor questions.

“No.”

“I’ll do it,” Luci offers. She sits up, brushing grass from her clothes, but Alicia reaches over and grabs onto her wrist.

“I’ve got it,” Alicia says. “I’m the one who’s stuck in the van with her, anyway.”

Luci concedes, and all eyes are on Alicia as she gets to her feet and heads to the van. She walks slowly, trying to determine what she’s going to say when she gets there. Hell, the way this day’s been going, Al will probably ignore her no matter what words leave her mouth. So maybe there’s no reason to plan it out.

Alicia’s mind is blank by the time she enters the van. She pulls the door shut behind her then freezes. Al’s seated on Alicia’s side of the van, as if she’s forgotten she has to share now, though the Astros snapback has been flung over onto Al’s side. Al’s got her elbows braced on her knees, her hands pressed against the side of her head, one of which is still holding the gun. The barrel's pointed toward the other side of the van, thankfully, but still.

“What’re you doing?” Alicia blurts.

Al sits back, exhaling, barely sparing Alicia a glance. The gun’s still on safety, thankfully, but it doesn’t leave Al’s hand. Al seems to be considering answering Alicia, so Alicia waits, eyebrows raised, arms crossed over her chest.

“I’m sitting,” Al finally says.

“With a gun.”

A smile flickers on Al’s face, but it doesn’t match her eyes. “It’s not hurting anyone,” Al says softly. “At least not right now.”

“You should put it down,” Alicia suggests. “And get off my side of the van while you’re at it.”

Al blinks. “Why are you here?”

“Everyone’s worried about you,” Alicia says, choosing to ignore the way Al ignored her last statement. She holds her hand out for the gun. “Give that here.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“Tough shit,” Alicia says. She wiggles her fingers. “C’mon. Hand it over.”

Al shakes her head. She’s about to say something, but she falters as her eyes land on Alicia’s arm. On the heart she’d tattooed there after Matt died. Slowly, Al’s eyes lift from Alicia’s arm to meet her gaze.

“Nice tattoo,” Al comments. “How long have you had that?”

“Since the end of everything,” Alicia says. Al’s eye twitches. Alicia considers just yanking the gun out of her hand. What’s she going to do? Risk hurting Alicia’s sprained wrist even more if she fights back? Alicia sighs and drops her hand to her side. She drops down onto the seats beside Al, careful to keep a respectable distance between them. “Look,” Alicia says. “What you did was…hard. Obviously. I would know better than anyone else, probably. But it needed to be done. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“I’m not blaming myself,” Al says.

“Then what’s the problem?”

Al looks over, and their eyes lock. “Two people died instead of one,” she says. “I could’ve stopped it from happening, but I let June hold me back.”

Alicia’s eyebrows pull together. “What are you talking about?”

“Grace knew – she knew her time was almost up. She wanted to go out on her terms – what I’m saying is, Dwight didn’t have to be collateral damage. That’s on me.”

“It’s not your fault,” Alicia says. “Trust me.”

“And why should I trust you?”

Alicia cracks a smile. “I know these things.”

Al rolls her eyes then rubs at her temples with the hand not holding the gun. Alicia still wants to reach over and try just yanking it away, but she has a feeling that’s a fight she won’t win.

“I told June I could do this,” Al says. “I told her I could handle anyone that gets infected.”

“But can you?” Alicia asks gently.

Al laughs, but it’s mirthless. “Yeah. Of course I can. But you know what?”

“What?”

Al smiles thinly. “It really makes me want a drink.”

“I don’t remember the last time I saw alcohol,” Alicia admits. “It never lasts long around here.”

“I know.” Al inhales deeply. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

“Probably.”

Finally, Al stands, and she locks the gun in her safe. “You can go,” she tells Alicia. “I’m good.”

“You don’t seem good.”

“I’ll shake it off,” Al dismisses. “Now either leave or stick around to watch me change.”

“Is that an offer?”

For a moment, Al stands in dumbfounded silence. “Are you serious?”

Alicia shrugs, fighting off a smile. “Maybe?”

Al shakes her head. “Get out of here, Clark. You aren’t funny.”

Alicia laughs. “I thought that was pretty good.”

She listens to Al, though, and leaves the van. Almost immediately, Luci appears at her side. “How is she?” Luci asks.

Alicia balks. “She’s alright,” Alicia says. “She’s talking again.”

Luci exhales in relief. “That’s a good sign.”

“It is,” Alicia agrees. “You seem really…worried.”

“She was there for me,” Luci reminds. “Someone should be there for her, don’t you think?”

Alicia nods, not quite able to keep a confused look off her face, but Luci doesn’t elaborate, and Alicia doesn’t ask her to. Alicia figures that, apart from June, Al really doesn’t have many friends in the caravan. Everyone knows her, of course, and she probably knows everyone. At least, she interviewed everyone at some point. But maybe June’s her only real friend, especially with Morgan gone.

Or maybe Luci and Al have been friends this entire time and Alicia just never bothered to notice.

Dylan interrupts them, pulling Luci away to help organize some game for all the kids to participate in. Alicia tears away before Dylan can try to rope her into it as well and happens to be looking at the van the moment Al steps out. No matter the weather, most of the caravan tends to be wary of showing too much skin when they’re outside of a vehicle. It’s a superstition or something, because it’s not like the sleeves of a cotton shirt are going to save you from a bite, but almost everyone follows it. Except Al, apparently, because here she is, leaving the van in a tank top. Both trench spikes are clipped to her belt. Alicia watches as Al heads in the direction of June’s truck, watches as the wind tousles her hair and forces her to push it back from her forehead.

“Staring?”

Alicia jumps, clutching at her chest. She swears her heart stops for a second, and she whips around to stare wide-eyed at Victor. He grins as Alicia pushes at his chest.

“You scared me,” she says.

“I know,” Victor laughs. “You were too busy staring at Al to notice me.”

“I was not!”

“You totally were,” Victor argues. “I saw you.”

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” Alicia says as the heat rises on her face. “I could’ve hurt you.”

Victor snorts. “Unlikely. You didn’t even reach for the barrel.”

Alicia glances down at her belt, at the gun barrel that’s dangling there that she didn’t even think about grabbing. She glares at Victor for being right, and he claps her on the shoulder and smiles good-naturedly.

“I’m teasing you,” he says.

“I wasn’t staring,” Alicia mutters.

“Should we go save Luci from the kids?” Victor asks.

Alicia shakes her head. “I think she enjoys being around them,” Alicia says. “Takes her mind off our horrible reality.”

Victor hums. “Then what do you propose we do, Alicia?”

“We should help June,” Alicia says.

Victor smirks. “You just want an excuse to be around Al.”

“What?” Alicia splutters. “No. I’m trying to help now that Morgan’s dead.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, kid,” Victor says. “Do you want me to go with you? I’m a pretty good wingman –”

“I don’t need a wingman!” Alicia exclaims. “I don’t like Al!”

“Then why were you staring at her?”

“I wasn’t!”

“Right,” Victor says. He winks then pats Alicia on the back. “Go on,” he says. “Lord knows June needs all the help she can get.”

*

Alicia regrets offering to help out almost immediately. June puts her straight to work, and by the time the caravan turns in for the night, Alicia’s body is sore. She can only do so much with her slowly healing sprained wrist, but she found a way. She’s half asleep in the van before Al even returns from June’s truck. Alicia almost swears Al’s extra quiet when she arrives, since it appears like Alicia’s asleep – she almost is. She’s in that weird half sleep state where she’s still vaguely aware of her surroundings. Mostly she’s just hearing things. Hearing Al exhale heavily. Hearing Al searching for something to wear to bed. Hearing Al get settled across the aisle.

Maybe it’s Al’s presence that lets Alicia finally drop fully into sleep.

Alicia opens her eyes in the stadium. She clutches the gun barrel in her hand, and she stands ready to use it against the blazing walkers that are slowly boxing her in. Movement out of the corner of her eye catches her attention, and when she looks back, she sees her mom. Madison. Alicia’s back straightens; she knows what she has to do. She has to protect her mom at all costs.

Alicia soon realizes the walkers can’t hurt her. They can’t burn her, can’t bite her. She can kill them with ease regardless of how dangerous they should be. One after the other falls, and Alicia prevents them from getting anywhere near her mom.

“You’re doing great, sweetie,” Madison calls. “You just have to keep it up. You can do it.”

She can do it. She’s not even tired.

But the walkers don’t stop. For every one she kills, two more appear. Slowly, they’re creeping past her, toward her mom. She has to stop them. She’s the only thing standing between them and her mom. She’s the only reason her mom’s still alive –

She’s the reason her mom _isn’t_ alive. She couldn’t save her. She didn’t even _try_ –

Alicia wakes with a start and nearly headbutts Al. Al only manages to dodge it at the last second, staggering back, and Alicia sits upright. Her wrist aches in protest of the weight she’s accidentally putting on it, and Alicia quickly corrects her position. She feels like she can’t breathe, like no matter how much air she sucks into her lungs, it isn’t enough. Her throat feels raw. Alicia’s eyes dart around as she struggles to catch her breath. It’s still dark outside, and the van is eerily quiet. Alicia’s eyes lift to Al’s face, and she’s surprised to see the blatant concern written into Al’s features.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Alicia wheezes.

Al swallows hard. “You were, uh – you were yelling for –”

“For what?” Alicia demands.

Al presses her lips together. Alicia raises her eyebrows, waiting, until Al finally whispers, “You were yelling for your mom.”

Alicia’s face pales. “I was what?”

Al sighs and pushes her hand through her hair. “Look, it’s okay –”

“No,” Alicia interrupts sharply. “Say it again.”

“You yelled out for your mom,” Al says bluntly. “And then I woke you up.”

“That was it?”

“That was it,” Al confirms. She eyes Alicia warily before returning to her bed. Alicia doesn’t lie back down. She draws her knees to her chest and stares at the back of the van. She can feel Al’s eyes on her, can feel the tension hanging in the air between them.

“You knew her,” Alicia finally says. “My mom.”

“I interviewed her,” Al corrects. “I don’t think that quite counts as knowing her.”

“It’s close enough.” Alicia inhales shakily then finds herself admitting, in a small voice, “I miss her.”

Al must not know what to say to that. She gets up and walks over to her safe. She rummages through her personal collection of tapes and comes up with two: _Amina _and _Madison_. Alicia watches her silently until Al stands right in front of her and holds the tapes out. Alicia stares at the tapes resting in Al’s palm for what feels like forever.

“Take them,” Al finally says. “They belong to you.”

Alicia meets Al’s gaze. “No they don’t,” Alicia says.

“They should,” Al replies. “They’re what’s left of Madison. You should have them.”

When Alicia doesn’t move, Al grabs her good hand and slaps the tapes into it, manually curling Alicia’s fingers around them. She starts to pull away, but Alicia grabs onto Al’s wrist to stop her. Alicia winces from having to use her bad wrist, and Al freezes, probably afraid to hurt Alicia further if she yanks away.

“Wait,” Alicia says quietly. “Don’t go.”

Al’s eyebrows raise, but she nods stiffly. Alicia releases her, and Al carefully takes a seat beside Alicia. Alicia’s eyes drop to the tapes in her hand, and she tucks them into the breast pocket of her flannel shirt for the time being. Alicia absently rubs at her aching wrist, as if that’s going to make the pain any better. After nearly a full minute in silence, Al reaches over and grabs Alicia’s hand, stilling the movement.

Al’s thumb grazes over the heart tattooed on Alicia’s forearm. Alicia flinches and covers it with her other hand.

“You did it yourself,” Al guesses.

“How’d you know that?”

Al smiles when Alicia looks over at her. “I dated a tattoo artist,” she says. “I know what professional tattoos look like.”

Alicia hums and shifts her hand away from her arm, allowing Al to study the tattoo. “I did it,” Alicia says, “after my boyfriend died. Right at the very beginning of everything. He drew it, so I tattooed it.”

Al nods. After a moment’s hesitation, she says softly, “My girlfriend always wanted to tattoo me so badly. She asked at least once a day.”

“You never let her?” Alicia asks.

Al grins crookedly. “She was very persistent,” Al says. “So of course I caved.”

Alicia’s breath hitches in her throat as Al rolls her tank top up to just under her breast to show off the loopy writing along her ribcage. Alicia stares for longer than what’s probably polite, but then she realizes it’s not written in English.

“What language is that?” Alicia blurts.

Al laughs and stares down at it herself. “It’s Swedish,” she says.

“What does it say?” Alicia asks.

“Hell if I know,” Al answers. “I don’t know Swedish.”

“You don’t know what your own tattoo says?” Alicia asks.

“Not at all,” Al says. She smirks. “My girlfriend knew what it said. She promised it wasn’t anything bad, and I trusted her.”

“You haven’t tried to find out?”

Al hesitates. She lets her shirt fall back down. “She died three weeks after she did this,” Al says. “So no, I didn’t bother to find out. I’m sure if I got a Swedish to English dictionary, I could piece it together.”

“But you haven’t tried.”

Al shakes her head. “Nope.”

“You don’t want to know?”

Al inhales deeply and shrugs. “I’m afraid to find out, honestly,” she admits. “And it’s not like anyone’s seeing it anyway.”

Alicia huffs. “Good excuse, Al. You know, maybe someone here speaks Swedish –”

“Don’t try to find out,” Al cuts in. “I showed you and only you.”

Alicia nods. “I get it.” Before the silence grows too awkward, Alicia finds herself asking, “What about your girlfriend? Did she have any tattoos?”

Al scoffs. “She was covered in them, Alicia. Everywhere but her face.”

“That’s where she drew the line?” Alicia jokes.

“She thought face tattoos were tacky,” Al says. They both smile, but Al’s fades quickly. “I guess we’re not that different,” Al says.

“How?”

“We’ve both lost everything.”

“And we’re both still here,” Alicia points out.

Al tilts her head to the side. “That was strangely positive of you, Alicia Clark.”

Alicia pauses. “I guess it was,” she mutters. Alicia leans back against the van, and Al mimics her. Maybe Alicia shifts just enough to ensure that her arm presses against Al’s. If Al notices, she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move. “What was her name?” Alicia asks. “Tattoo artist girlfriend.”

Al smiles and lets her eyes close. “Tattoo artist girlfriend isn’t a good enough name for you?”

“No.”

Al exhales. “Sawyer,” she says.

“Unique,” Alicia comments.

“She was unique.”

Alicia hums in acknowledgment. “You haven’t – you haven’t found anyone since?”

“Since Sawyer?”

Alicia shrugs. “Yeah. Since the end.”

Alicia expects a quick _yes _or _no_, but Al mulls over the question. Al doesn’t open her eyes, and she’s quiet for so long that Alicia thinks maybe she’s fallen asleep. She jumps slightly when Al whispers, “There was someone. Once. Not long ago.”

Alicia swallows hard. “What happened to her?”

A smile flicks on Al’s face, but it’s morphs into a grimace. “We didn’t get much time together,” Al says. “She had to go.”

“Had to?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Al opens her eyes, rolls her head to the side so she can look Alicia in the eye. “She just had to,” Al says. Alicia bites down on her lower lip, hoping it’ll stop her from questioning Al further when she clearly doesn’t want to say much about whoever this woman is.

“Well,” Alicia says quietly. “No one’s gone until they’re gone.” Jesus, she could kick herself. "Maybe she’s still out there,” Alicia says under her breath. Out of all the things she could’ve said –

“Yeah,” Al says. “Maybe.”

Alicia nods. Her shoulders slump slightly as she thinks that over. Someone Al clearly had a connection with is most likely out there somewhere, just waiting. Waiting for Al. Maybe. That’s kind of what it sounds like. It sounds like if Al found her, she’d go back.

“I dated someone,” Alicia informs, “after the world ended.”

“Yeah? How’d that go?”

“Not well.”

Al grunts. “It never goes well, does it?”

“I guess not.”

“What was his name?” Al asks.

“Huh?”

“You needed to know Sawyer’s name,” Al says wryly. “So what was his name?”

“Jake,” Alicia breathes.

Al nods. “You know, if you want to tell me about him, I can get the camera.”

“Thanks,” Alicia says, “but no thanks.”

Al chuckles. “I figured as much.”

Alicia’s eyes study Al’s face. Al smiles softly, but Alicia can’t bring herself to return it. She’s just now noticing how close their faces are. Their arms are still pressed together, knees resting against each other’s. Alicia says the first thing that comes into her mind.

“I killed Morgan before he was ready.”

Al’s eyebrows pull together. “What?”

“He wanted to come back,” Alicia admits. “To the caravan. I wouldn’t let him. I wouldn’t risk it –”

“It’s okay,” Al interrupts. She grabs onto Alicia’s knee reassuringly. “It’s okay. You did what you had to. It’s not your fault.”

“It feels like it is.”

“I know.”

“But I haven’t dreamt about him,” Alicia whispers. “It’s always my mom. Nick. Sometimes Jake. Ofelia.”

“Ofelia?”

“Daniel’s daughter.”

“Oh.”

Alicia nods and rubs at her eyes. “Yeah,” she says. “Or it’s the plane crash.”

Al flinches. “I’m sorry.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Alicia says. “I mean, I blamed you, and I’m sorry for that. You did what you had to.”

“But Luci was hurt,” Al says.

“Yeah. But it wasn’t your fault. We lost an engine. Victor was supposed to be there.”

“Shit happens,” Al finishes.

Alicia cracks a weary smile. “Shit happens,” she agrees.

“We should sleep,” Al says so quietly that Alicia basically has to read her lips. “For some reason, we’re leading this caravan alongside June now. We’re going to need rest.”

“I can’t sleep,” Alicia says. “I never can after…”

“I know.”

Alicia nods. They’re still way too close together, and it’s all Alicia can think about. It’s making her mind feel foggy.

“I guess I should thank you,” Alicia says. “For the tapes.”

Al shakes her head and waves her hand in dismissal. “Don’t thank me. They’re yours.”

Alicia blinks back the sudden threat of tears and whispers, “They’re all I have left of my mom now.”

“You have your memories,” Al says. “That’s something.”

“How do you hold onto the good when there’s so much bad?” Alicia chokes.

“Honestly? I don’t know.”

Alicia swipes at her eyes, but she pulls herself together quickly. Al’s eyes haven’t left her face, and Al doesn’t back down when Alicia meets her gaze again. There’s not enough space between them. Alicia’s heart pounds in her throat, and she closes her eyes. She can feel herself leaning closer, feels Al’s grip on her knee tighten. Alicia doesn’t bother to try to justify her actions to herself. She doesn’t want to overthink her way out of it.

She wants to kiss Al.

And she’s going to, except the abrupt banging on the back of the van startles both Al and Alicia so badly that they spring apart long before their lips touch. Alicia inhales raggedly as Al rushes to get the door. Alicia can barely bring herself to look over as June steps inside, frowning as her eyes land on Al’s bare legs.

“Put some pants on,” June tells Al.

“Don’t come barging into my van in the middle of the night to tell me to put pants on,” Al jokes.

“This isn’t funny,” June says.

Alicia stands shakily. “What’s going on?” she stammers.

“We’ve got a call,” June informs. “His name is Eric. He’s only about twenty miles out. He has a baby. They both need urgent medical care. We need to go, so get dressed.”

June knocks her hand against Al’s shoulder and motions toward where she keeps her clothes. Al stands with her jaw hanging open for a moment then looks back at Alicia.

“It’s the middle of the night, June,” Al says. “We don’t go on missions in the middle of the night.”

“It can’t wait,” June insists. “I need you to come with me.”

“I’m not filming –”

“As an extra set of hands,” June explains.

“Hold up,” Alicia cuts in. “You both can’t leave us here. Who’s going to run the caravan?”

“Daniel and Strand will be in charge,” June explains. “And I was hoping you, Luci, and John would follow after us, be on standby just in case we need more hands. Both of you, get dressed.”

“Hold up,” Al says. “June, you’re our leader. You can’t do something like this.”

“Sure I can,” June says. “Morgan went on missions. He led by example. We’re going to do the same. It’ll keep the caravan’s spirits up after losing three people in just a couple days, and if we’re lucky, we’ll have two new members.”

“Casey can fill in for you,” Al suggests.

“Casey?” Alicia questions. “Med student Casey-can’t-throw-a-punch-or-I-might-break-a-nail Gray? You can’t be serious.”

“Really?” Al says, turning on Alicia. “You want to send June out in the middle of the night –”

“Sunrise is only an hour away,” June interjects.

“The sun hasn’t risen yet,” Al retorts. “Casey knows her shit. Maybe she’s not as…practiced as June is, but she can hold her own. It’s safer than risking our one real medical professional who also happens to be our newly appointed leader.”

“I’m going,” June says. “And that’s final. So put some pants on, maybe a jacket. Fix your hair. Same to you, Alicia. I’ll get Luci and John. You'll take Strand’s truck; Al and I will take the van. I’ll get all the supplies, and I’ll fill Strand and Daniel in. Now hurry up. It’s urgent.”

“What kind of urgent?” Alicia demands.

June presses her lips together. “He said he was robbed, shot somewhere in the abdomen. His baby’s sick, and it’s only getting worse, but now he’s incapacitated. He can’t care for her in his condition.”

“So he reached out to us,” Al says. “Typical.”

“Not the time, Al,” June replies. “Hurry. Please.”

June takes off, and Al pulls the doors shut, grumbling to herself. Alicia changes quickly, sliding into jeans. She rewraps her hand and wrist tightly, hoping it’ll be good enough to use if it comes down to it. Alicia hooks the gun barrel on her belt then ties her hair back. When Al’s back is turned, Alicia tucks the two tapes into her bag beneath the seats, storing them safely so she doesn’t have to worry about them falling out of her flannel. When Alicia looks back over at Al, she’s rolling the sleeves of a white thermal shirt up to her mid-forearms, wearing a disgruntled look.

“White?” Alicia questions. “Is that a good choice?”

“What’s wrong with white?” Al asks.

Alicia shrugs and holds her hands up in surrender. “Nothing, I guess. It’s just…strange. I didn’t know you owned anything white.”

Al grins. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Alicia.”

Alicia stares at Al for a long moment, stares at her relaxed demeanor, at the carefree smile on her lips. Alicia realizes if June hadn’t interrupted them, she would’ve kissed Al. And Al knows it. Now here they are, getting dressed at a godforsaken hour to go help some guy with a baby, totally ignoring the fact that they would’ve had a moment if they hadn’t been so rudely interrupted.

Al adds the trench spikes to her belt, and they walk out of the van together. When they reach the bottom of the steps, they both hesitate and look to one another. Alicia grimaces, but Al musters up a smile and playfully punches Alicia in the arm.

“See you on the other side,” she says.

Alicia rolls her eyes. “Just don’t fuck this up, okay?”

“When do I ever fuck anything up?” Al replies. “Wait. Don’t answer that.”

Alicia shakes her head, smiling to herself, and she joins Luci at the truck she shares with Victor. Victor’s already off with Daniel, getting briefed by June, and John makes his way over shortly after. He tips his hat to both Alicia and Luci.

“Who wants to drive?” he asks.

“You do,” Luci tells him, pressing the keys into his hand. “I want to keep sleeping.”

“I can drive,” Alicia offers.

John smiles gently. “I’ll drive,” he says. “Just keep your eyes peeled, okay? That’s my lady in there.”

He jerks his head toward the van, where Al and June are just getting into the front. Alicia watches as Al disappears behind the wheel, watches her arm poke out to pull the door shut. The van roars to life, and Alicia decides not to fight Luci for the passenger’s seat and climbs up into the truck bed. Someone’s got to keep their eyes peeled, after all.

John drives as carefully as he can, but since he’s following after Al, he struggles to keep up. He glances back every few seconds to make sure Alicia’s still with them. She clings to the side of the truck, trying to will the cool morning air to wake her up. Her eyes rarely leave the van, and her mind whirs at a hundred miles an hour. Mostly she thinks about Al, and frankly, Alicia’s glad for the distraction.

She’d be happier if she’d actually gotten to follow through and kiss Al, but Alicia figures she’ll get another chance later. Maybe she won’t get the perfect opportunity, but hey, she’ll probably scream herself awake again sooner or later.

“You doing alright back there?” John calls out the window.

“Just fine,” Alicia shouts back. She fidgets with the collar of her flannel shirt and chews on the inside of her lip as the van slowly comes to a stop ahead of them. The van parks in front of a small ranch. The light green paint on the exterior of the house is chipping away. There’s an old sedan parked in the driveway, and a pickup truck parked dead in the center of the lawn. If Alicia didn’t know any better, she’d assume the place was abandoned.

“This must be it,” John says. Must be. They’re stopped. The sun still hasn’t fully risen, but it’s on its way. It isn’t completely dark, at least.

“They’re getting out,” Alicia says. “Wake Luci,” she suggests. “Just in case.”

June steps out and slings a backpack filled with medical supplies over her shoulder. She waits for Al to join her, trench spike in hand. Al spares a glance over at the truck, and their eyes lock for a long moment. Al smiles, but just with one side of her mouth, and slowly nods. Then she looks away.

But Alicia doesn’t. Alicia’s eyes track Al all the way to the porch. June knocks on the front door, but there’s no answer. Alicia watches Al adjust her grip on the trench spike. Then the walkie in Luci’s hand crackles to life.

“June?”

“I’m here,” June’s voice responds. “Eric?”

“You said it was just going to be you and a friend,” Eric gasps. He sounds like he’s been shot, that’s for sure. He sounds like every word, every breath pains him. “Why is there a truck?”

“We brought some other friends,” June assures him. “In case I need more hands. We’re here to help.”

“I can’t – I can’t trust – surely you understand,” Eric wheezes.

Alicia stands, leaning against the roof of the truck, and squints toward the porch. Al says something in June’s ear, and June nods, holding the walkie near her mouth.

“Okay,” June agrees. “John, do you copy?”

“I copy,” John answers almost immediately.

“Take the truck around the block, okay? I’ll call if I need assistance.”

John hesitates, and Alicia’s heart drops into her stomach. She gets it. If it was her, if she was told it was going to be June and a friend and a second vehicle rolled up, she’d be suspicious, too. She’d be afraid.

“Okay,” John says. “We’ll be on standby. Be careful.”

Alicia doesn’t look away from June and Al until the truck turns the corner, and Alicia finds herself holding her breath. She reminds herself to breathe steadily. She shouldn’t be this worried about Al. Al can more than take care of herself. She can take care of June. Al’s got this. Alicia has faith in Al. Alicia has seen what she’s capable of.

They wait. It’s all they can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter comes from Sentimental Tune. The next chapter is going to be a doozy so prepare yourself for some fuckery. That's all I'll say.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts/questions/concerns in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


	4. i was someone you loved then i was no one at all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some heavy shit ahead, but I think this is my favorite chapter so far. Hope you enjoy it!

The truck drives off. June walks in first. Al trails behind her, shutting the front door. The home’s dimly lit. The shades are drawn on the windows, but there are a few candles lit in the kitchen off to the left.

“Eric?” June calls.

“He saw us drive up,” Al points out quietly. Her grip on the trench spike tightens. Something’s not right here. June rounds the corner into the living room, and two things happen at once. Al’s ears start ringing, and something warm splatters across the front of her shirt. She barely has time to look down, to see the red fluid staining almost the whole front of her white shirt.

So that’s the problem Alicia had with wearing white. Blood shows up way too easily on it.

June starts to collapse, and the guy that must be Eric is _right there_. And the barrel of his handgun is almost aimed at Al’s head. So she does the first thing that comes into mind, the _only _thing that might save her from having her brains blown across the back wall.

She grabs the barrel with her left hand and twists. Eric fires off a shot, and Al feels every second pass as the bullet blasts through the palm of her hand. She’s yanked him off balance, and Al only barely manages to keep her hand on the gun as Eric stumbles. He hasn’t let go, and he’s trying to recuperate, to put Al down for good. Though her eyes water so badly she can hardly see, Al headbutts Eric. The gun goes clattering to the floor, but Eric slams to the ground, clutching at his forehead.

Al screams, but she can’t hear it over the ringing in her ears. She scoops up the gun with her good hand, cradling her bad one against her chest, and she fires off every last shot into Eric’s chest the second after he’s gotten back to his feet in his attempt to charge Al. Frankly, she’s lucky she hits him at all, let alone square in the chest. His body falls heavy to the ground, and she throws the empty gun aside, rushing to June’s side. She pushes the fogginess in her brain out of the way. She needs to focus. June needs her.

“What – where’d he get you?” Al breathes out. She blinks away the blurriness in her vision, forces herself to remain conscious in spite of the absolutely _agonizing _pain in her left hand. She looks at it only to make sure she still has a left hand. She does, but maybe it’d be better if she didn’t. The entrance wound in her palm is actually pretty small, but the back of her hand –

Well, that’s a fucking mess.

Not now. Al can’t do this now. Blood spreads across the front of June’s shirt, and June lifts her own hands from the wound up toward her face, to inspect the blood coating her palms. She must be in shock or something. Al quickly gathers June’s hands with her one working hand, because she can’t fathom having to touch her left hand to anything. If she does, she’ll probably lose consciousness instantly. And she can’t lose consciousness. Not now.

“Hold – hold pressure,” Al stammers. She presses June’s hands down to her stomach, presses her good hand over June’s as hard as she can. The others –

_Fuck_. The others drove around the block. Where’s the goddamn walkie? Al looks around, but June must’ve dropped it. It’s not on June, and it’s not within Al’s immediate reach. June flinches as Al lets out another yell, and June has the audacity to shush her. Al falls silent out of sheer shock and meets June’s gaze.

“Promise me,” June whispers. “Promise me John won’t have to – to take care of me.”

Al shakes her head vigorously. “No one’s going to have to take care of you,” she promises. “You’re gonna make it.”

June closes her eyes, exhales. “Al.”

“No!” Al shouts. She pushes down on June’s hands once more. “Hold pressure, okay? I’ve got – I’ve got to get the walkie.”

“Your hand,” June says.

“Fuck my hand,” Al snarls. She scrambles off to get the walkie, blinking away the stars swirling in front of her eyes. She can’t pass out. She can’t. She locates the walkie on the floor and scoops it up, but the moment she presses the button, she can barely get the words out. The first few seconds are just Al near-hyperventilating into the walkie. “Get over here,” she finally manages to choke out. “Now.”

She drops the walkie. She doesn’t wait to hear the response. She rushes back to June’s side, half falling to her knees, and presses her good hand back over June’s. There’s something wet on Al’s face, and she doesn’t know if it’s June’s blood or what, but she can feel that it’s there. June, much to Al’s dismay, wriggles her hand free and reaches up, touching her fingertips to Al’s face. She smears bloodstained fingers through the tear track, smears more blood on Al’s face.

“Pressure,” Al breathes. “Gotta keep pressure.”

“Don’t let John do it,” June says. “Please. Promise.”

Al falters, but the way June’s staring at her – she barely holds back a sob and nods. “I promise.”

“Good.”

Al’s brain warns her of movement a half a second before Eric’s back on his feet. She knew, somewhere in the back of her frazzled mind, that this would happen. She was too concerned with June to remember until now – since he’s coming at her. Al pulls away from June, putting her body in front of June’s to stop Eric from targeting her. Al braces herself, gritting her teeth against the unyielding pain, and she keeps her left hand out of the way as she slams her shoulder into Eric’s chest. It sends his reanimated body flying to the ground. She’s bought herself a few seconds to retrieve the trench spike. She gets it in her hand, blinking the wetness from her eyes, and she stands unsteadily as Eric staggers to his feet.

She raises the trench spike –

The front door bangs against the wall hard, then smacks to the ground. Al glances back a second before a gunshot rings out, and John Dorie’s engraved revolver sends Eric to the grave permanently. The trench spike hits the floor, and Alicia shrieks. Al can’t stay up anymore. Luci catches her before she has the chance to hit the floor, and Al immediately feels hands all over her. Alicia’s hands, grasping at the bloodstained front of her shirt, touching the flecks of blood on her face, pulling clothing out of the way in search of an injury she doesn’t have.

“She’s covered in blood,” Alicia says. “There’s got to be something –”

“Alicia. _Leesh_. It’s not hers,” Luci says quietly. She nods over toward June. But Alicia spots Al’s hand and makes a choked sound in the back of her throat.

“June,” Al moans.

“John’s with her, honey,” Luci assures her.

“No,” Al breathes. “No. I promised – I promised I wouldn’t let him – he can’t do it.”

“Do what?” Alicia asks.

“He can’t put her down. It has to be me. I promised.”

“You’re in no shape –”

“It has to be me!” Al bursts.

Luci and Alicia exchange a glance. Al can tell Alicia wants to say no. But she has to do it. She owes June that much.

“We have to move,” John says. Tears roll down his cheeks, and he’s got both his hands pressed over June’s on the gunshot wound. “We have to get her _back _–”

June says something to him that Al can’t hear, but he cries harder. Luci lowers Al to the ground carefully and grabs June’s backpack of medical supplies. Luci pushes Alicia’s hands away, doesn’t let her dump the backpack’s contents onto the floor, and Luci pulls out an antiseptic and a roll of bandages.

“I think it’s all we can do for now,” Luci says grimly. So she pours antiseptic over the mangled back of Al’s left hand as Al screams. Luci winds Al’s hand in bandages and leaves it as John and June have their final moments together. Al realizes she’s probably ruining John’s last moments with the love of his life, but she can’t stop screaming. The combination of the unrelenting, burning pain and the impending loss of the best friend Al’s had since the end of everything is too much.

At least if she’s screaming, she’s still conscious.

“We have to help her!” John bellows. “And shut her up! Jesus!”

Al lies on her back, breathing quickly and shallowly, staring up at the ceiling. She manages to stop screaming before either Alicia or Luci can make her, and she can hear them murmuring nearby but can’t make out their words. Al can’t stay here. She can’t just lie uselessly on the floor while June’s fucking dying. Dying, all because they all so foolishly bought into Morgan’s helping people bullshit. All they’ve managed to do is make themselves vulnerable to people like Eric. Al will never know what he wanted from them, but they were dumb enough to try.

And now her best friend’s going to die, and Al probably won’t have use of her left hand ever again.

“There’s no helping her, John,” Luci says gently. “There’s nothing we can do –”

“Bullshit!” John yells. “I was shot. I lived. She can – she can _live_.”

“We can’t handle both of them,” Luci says to Alicia.

“Plus a body,” Alicia adds.

“We need backup,” Luci says. “We need the whole caravan.”

“Put out the call,” Alicia orders. “We’ll get them out, and the caravan can overturn the house.”

“Stay with me,” John whimpers. “_Please, _June.”

“And then we’re out of here,” Luci says.

Alicia nods. “It’s me and you now.”

Luci presses her lips together. “I’ll clear the rest of the house,” she offers. “Watch for the caravan.”

Al has to get up. She forces herself to take a few deep breaths and steels herself, pushing herself upright with her good hand. She does her best not to jostle her left hand around and keeps her eyes away from the bandages that have already soaked through. She needs to get to June, and she’s going to at whatever cost.

“Hey!” Alicia exclaims. “What are you –?”

“I’m getting up,” Al insists. Well, she’s sitting. Close enough. She’s just going to have to drag herself over to June. Al’s relieved to get to June’s side while her eyes are still open. “June,” Al breathes, grasping onto her knee. “Hey. I’m here, okay? John and I – we’re here. It’s okay.”

John looks at her like she’s lost it, but he’s not yelling anymore. Al manages to look over at him, and their eyes lock. And maybe John understands. He swallows hard and looks back down at June. June’s eyes never leave his face, and John clutches onto her hands, letting the wound bleed freely. Based on the pool of blood they’re kneeling in, there was never any hope anyway.

“Al –” June wheezes.

“I know,” Al assures her. Her voice breaks. “I promise, okay?” Al whispers. She releases June’s knee in favor of adding her hand on top of John and June’s. John’s body racks with sobs, but Al holds herself together. For June more than anything.

“Okay, there’s another problem,” Luci says breathlessly as she returns from the back of the house.

“What?” Alicia asks.

Luci’s eyes go from June, flanked by John and Al, to Alicia. “There’s actually a baby here,” Luci says. She points her thumb over her shoulder. “There’s a nursery and a baby.”

“And the father’s dead,” Alicia says.

“Rightfully so,” Al snaps. Alicia’s eyes go from Eric’s body to Al’s hand, prompting Al to look. Not only are the bandages soaked, but blood’s seeping through, rolling up her arm. June’s grip weakens, and John struggles to keep holding on.

“It’s time,” June says in a voice that’s barely audible. “I can’t – Al, please.”

“No,” John says firmly. “_No_.”

Al’s eyes lift to Luci and Alicia, frozen a few feet away. Off in the distance, the baby cries. Apparently all the commotion wasn’t enough to make the baby cry until now. Al pulls her hand away from John and June’s, curling it into a fist when it trembles.

“Guys,” Al says. Her eyes lock with Luci’s, and Luci nods then looks to Alicia. Together, they step forward. They each get one of John’s arms, and they catch him off guard just enough to pull him back. Luci swipes one of his revolvers and sends it skittering across the floor, close enough for Al to get it. She tries not to think about how the kickback could break her wrist if she’s not careful and cocks the hammer. She steels herself, locking eyes with June one last time.

June’s eyes are clear, strangely focused. She manages a feeble smile. “It’s okay,” June mouths.

“I’m sorry,” Al chokes out.

“Not your fault,” June barely manages to say. “Take care of him.”

Al nods. She can’t see Luci and Alicia handling John, but she can hear them struggling to hold him back. She can hear him yelling, but she blocks it all out. She aims the barrel at June’s temple, and her hand shakes violently. She has her finger on the trigger. All she needs to do is pull it.

She can’t. She can’t fucking pull it, even though she promised. Even though John will very likely break free from Alicia and Luci. Even though it’s better to take care of this now than after June dies. She’s down to her last minutes as it is. Al needs to pull the fucking trigger. She needs to –

June gets a weak fistful of the front of Al’s bloodstained shirt, and their eyes meet once more. June mouths one last word.

_Please_.

John breaks free.

Alicia yells out for him to stop, but it’s too late.

Al pulls the trigger. She squeezes her eyes shut at the same moment, and the gun falls from her hand as June’s hand lets go of Al’s shirt. The baby screeches from the back room, but John screams even louder, hitting the floor on his hands and knees.

June is gone.

Al’s body crumples. She fulfilled her promise. She hits the ground on her bad side, sending overwhelming shockwaves of pain through her arm. Al starts to flicker in and out of consciousness as she lies on her side in the pool of June’s blood. Shit’s going on around her. John sobs on the floor somewhere behind Al. Alicia and Luci are scrambling –

“Walkers!” Luci announces.

“Shit,” Alicia hisses. “Shit! Al!”

Al forces her eyes open, but she finds herself staring at June’s lifeless face. It would’ve been better if Al had walked in first, if Eric had spotted her first. This wouldn’t be happening. It would’ve been her instead of June. This would be over –

Fingers press against Al’s neck, and Al finds herself gasping for air, startling the hell out of Alicia.

“She’s alive,” Alicia calls to Luci.

“The front door’s not on its fucking hinges, and the dead are coming!” Luci bursts. “Get over here and help me! Al needs to wait.”

Alicia presses her palm to the side of Al’s face, and Al remembers when June had done something similar, remembers making some crack about how June had a handful of sweat. The same goes for Alicia, but Al can’t speak.

“Stay with me, okay?” Alicia murmurs. “We’re gonna help you.”

Alicia is oddly calm as she joins Luci at the front door. Alicia pulls the gun barrel from her belt and exhales. Behind her, John lies on the floor crying, Al lies on the floor bleeding, and June lies on the floor dead. And the baby cries in the back room.

“There’s too many,” Luci says. “Jesus.”

“We won’t be able to hold them off long,” Alicia says. “We need John.”

“John would be less helpful than Al,” Luci replies. “We have to hold them off.”

“We _can’t_.”

Al wishes that baby would stop screaming. It’s giving her a headache. Or maybe it’s the pain in her hand that’s causing her headache. Or John’s crying. Or Alicia and Luci bickering at the front door as the walkers converge on the house.

“They’ll funnel in,” Luci explains. “We’ll kill them as they all try to force themselves through the door, right?”

“They’re surrounding the goddamn house,” Alicia points out. “They’ll start breaking through windows.”

“We’re going to die,” Luci moans.

“Where the _fuck _is Victor?” Alicia shouts. She slams the gun barrel against the doorframe as the first walker reaches the porch, leaving Luci to shove her knife through its eye socket. The moment Luci pulls her knife free, she has to kill the next walker. Alicia spears one on the gun barrel and kicks the body off, sending it falling back into its friends.

“We need to fall back,” Luci says. “Or we really are going to die.”

“Fall back where?” Alicia demands. “We’ve got John and Al behind us! We can’t kill walkers and move them at the same time! John! Jesus fucking Christ! Get _up_! Help us!”

John can’t get up. Or he won’t. He keeps crying, and Al’s barely clinging to consciousness, but she can’t just keep lying here. She’s not sure she can even stand, let alone kill the dead. But if they get past Alicia and Luci – if Alicia and Luci have to fall back – it’ll be do or die. And Al’s not going down without a fight. So fuck her left hand. She rolls herself onto her back. She can feel June’s blood soaking into the back of her shirt, has to peel the side of her face from the floor, and her eyes scan the floor for the trench spike.

Alicia continues to yell at John, and Luci’s just yelling. They’re yelling, and John and Eric’s baby are crying. Funnily, Al’s the only one keeping her cool. She drags herself toward the trench spike, jaw clenched against the unbearable pain it’s causing her. She nearly succumbs to the darkness – hell, she’d love to, if there weren’t walkers less than twenty feet away. She’s almost there –

The loudest horn blares, and Al hears Alicia laugh in relief as half the walkers change course and stagger toward the caravan. Alicia and Luci stumble back, and Alicia bolts to Al’s side.

“Hey,” Alicia breathes. “Hey. You still with me?”

Al totally intends to answer her. She even gets a handful of the front of Alicia’s shirt and uses it as leverage to pull herself half up. Alicia quickly gets her arm around Al’s back, and maybe Al’s not quite pulling herself up. Maybe Alicia’s doing all the work and Al’s just hanging on.

“They’re gonna clear a path!” Luci calls.

“I’ve got you,” Alicia tells Al. “Okay? I’ve got you.”

Al wants to respond, but she can’t even keep holding onto Alicia’s shirt. She can’t stay awake.

*

“No, stop! You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing!”

“And you do? Please, be my guest, Alicia, since you know _everything_.”

Al’s eyes flutter open. She has no fucking clue what happened or where she is, but when her vision clears, she’s staring up at Alicia. There are worse things to wake up to. Alicia’s lips press together, and she strokes her hand over Al’s sweat-soaked hair.

“Hey,” Alicia says gently. “It’s okay.”

See, that makes Al think something’s _not _okay. But she nods nonetheless, grunting. Her left arm feels heavy, much heavier than her right arm. And her head is fucking pounding.

“Did I pass out?” Al asks hoarsely.

“Yes,” Alicia answers. Her hand trembles in Al’s hair, and Al blinks until she’s sure she’s going to stay conscious. “Hey, take it easy,” Alicia warns, pressing a hand against the center of Al’s chest. “Stay down, okay?”

“Why?” Al says. “We’ve got to –” Al freezes. “Alicia,” she says quietly. “What happened?”

And that’s the exact moment that the pain hits her. She drops her head back down on the metal seats of her van, gritting her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut. She is _not _about to look like a little bitch in front of Alicia.

“What the fuck is going on?” Al says through her teeth, voice strained.

“Okay, do what you have to,” Alicia says.

“Are you sure?” Casey questions.

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Alicia threatens.

“Guys,” Luci snaps. She ascends the stairs of the van and rushes to Al’s side. Alicia shifts to make room, but Casey shoots her a glare for moving into her space. Al’s brain locates the main source of pain – her left hand. So of course Casey’s prodding at it. “How is she?” Luci asks. Alicia’s hand doesn’t leave Al’s hair, but Luci grasps onto Al’s shoulder. Al immediately reaches up with the hand that works and fumbles for Luci’s hand. Luci grabs on with both of hers and holds tight as Al’s hand erupts into flames.

“There are bone fragments everywhere,” Casey informs, shaking her head.

“Are you chewing gum?” Luci questions.

Casey snaps the gum then says, “Yeah. So?”

“I’m gonna kill her,” Alicia tells Luci. “I’m going to _fucking _–”

“Hey,” Casey interrupts. “Do you want me to leave your girlfriend’s hand to get infected? You want to be performing an amputation?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Alicia hisses.

“Whatever,” Casey dismisses. “Shut up and let me take care of this, okay?”

Alicia, to Al’s surprise, shuts up. Al doesn’t have the energy to scream anymore, no matter how much it hurts. Something other than her hand still isn’t right, but Al’s mind comes up blank. It’s like she blacked out, because her last memory is of last night, in the van with Alicia –

Alicia almost kissed her. But Al doesn’t remember kissing her, doesn’t remember why Alicia _didn’t _kiss her.

“Strand and Daniel are managing John,” Luci says quietly. Alicia nods. “The house is almost completely swept through.”

“And the kid?” Alicia asks.

“One of the families offered to take her in,” Luci says.

“Is anyone going to tell me what the fuck happened?” Al says, but Casey fucks something up, and Al can’t _not _scream at this point.

“Okay, I thought you were going to hold the bowl,” Casey shouts over Al, holding up the small shard of bone clamped in her tweezers.

“Here’s the fucking bowl,” Alicia growls, shoving it into Casey’s chest.

“Thanks,” Casey sneers. “Hold her still, please. I’m trying not to totally destroy her hand.”

“It might be too late for that,” Luci murmurs.

“Either comfort your girlfriend or help me,” Casey says to Alicia. “She’s moving too much, and we can’t leave the wound like this.”

“I got her,” Luci assures Alicia. “Help her.”

Luci slips one of her hands free of Al’s grasp and pushes it down on the center of Al’s chest, saying something about not moving. The physical pain is almost too much. It clouds her brain, and still, no one’s telling her what happened to her hand or why John has to be managed or why someone’s taking in a child. Her mind replays the last thing she remembers from before she woke up in pain.

Alicia was leaning in. Al wasn’t backing down. Al was going to kiss her, so why –

June interrupted them.

And then it all rushes back.

Al screams like she’s being murdered and bolts up, throwing Luci off balance and scaring the hell out of Casey and Alicia. Casey curses, accidentally jabbing the tweezers into the open wound in the back of Al’s hand.

“What the fuck did you do?” Alicia demands, grabbing Casey by the front of her shirt.

“Nothing!” Casey defends, shoving at Alicia’s chest. “Let go of me, Clark! She’s going to hurt herself worse!”

Luci’s back at Al’s side, trying to hold her down, and it isn’t until Alicia makes her way over that Al stops screaming. Because Alicia clamps her hand over Al’s mouth until the scream dies in her throat.

“I’m trying to make sure you still have a hand at the end of this,” Alicia says quietly. “Please stop screaming.”

Al’s eyes water, and Alicia flinches and pulls her hand back. “June’s dead, isn’t she?” Al whispers. “I killed her.”

Stunned silence follows. Casey’s the first to shake it off, returning to working on Al’s hand and leaving Alicia and Luci to deal with that.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Alicia says.

“I need to –”

Luci shoves Al back down harshly, and she’s much stronger than Al currently is. Al tries and fails to sit back up, but Luci keeps enough pressure on her chest to stop her. Al squeezes her eyes shut, but tears still seep out. She clenches her jaw against the searing pain in her hand, but the pain of reliving losing June is worse.

“I think I’ve got as much out as I can,” Casey informs. She exhales heavily and shakes her head, looking back to Alicia. “It’s blown to shit. I don’t know what I can salvage.”

“Just try,” Alicia snaps.

“I don’t know if I can,” Casey admits. “Not while she’s awake.”

“We don’t have any other options,” Luci says. Al’s chest heaves with each breath she takes, and sweat drips off her face.

“Luci,” Alicia says quietly. “She can’t take this.”

“She has to,” Luci insists. “I did it after the plane crash, didn’t I? She can do this.”

Casey looks to Alicia for permission. Alicia pushes her hands into her hair, conflicting emotions dancing across her face. “Okay,” Alicia says. “Fine. Do whatever you have to. If we’re lucky, she’ll pass out again.”

Al does not pass out again. She feels every movement, every little jab, every single fucking thing Casey’s doing to her hand. The pain’s overwhelming, and June – Al can’t stop thinking about June. At least at first. Eventually, the pain muddles that, too, and Al’s lucky she can remember her own name.

Al flickers in and out of consciousness, but it’s like the pain never stops. She stops being able to understand Alicia and Casey’s bickering, can’t understand the soothing words Luci murmurs in her ear. Her hand is still clutched in Luci’s, held against Luci’s chest as Luci kneels beside her and – well, Luci’s not speaking in English, so that explains why Al can’t understand her. But Alicia and Casey’s words get lost somewhere.

“You can do this, baby,” Luci whispers. “It’s okay.”

What? She can do what –

Casey starts stitching the mess that has become Al’s hand shut, and no, Al absolutely _cannot _do this. An entire lifetime passes before Casey sits back and announces that’s the best she can do. She pours antiseptic over Al’s hand and winds a bandage around it.

“Now what?” Alicia demands.

“Now we wait,” Casey says. She dabs at the sweat beading on her forehead with her arm, since her hands are coated in Al’s blood, then shakes her head. “If it gets infected, we’ll have to amputate it and hope that doesn’t get infected, too.”

“Then it better not get infected,” Alicia snarls.

“Make sure she takes the antibiotics then,” Casey says. “And we shouldn’t give her any painkillers until she can hold food down. They might just end up making her sick.”

“Fine,” Alicia says. “Anything else?”

“Someone better be at her side at all times,” Casey says. Casey pauses. “You should probably get her changed and cleaned up.”

Alicia’s hand slams against Casey’s shoulder to stop her from leaving. “You aren’t done,” Alicia says. “Get a rag. Get some water. And help us. You’re stepping into J – you’re stepping up as the medic? You’re going to act like it or you’re _out_.”

Casey’s jaw falls open. “Out?”

“Out of the fucking caravan,” Alicia confirms. “So don’t think you’re going anywhere until I say you are.”

“And who put you in charge?” Casey asks.

“I did,” Alicia seethes. “And I don’t think you’ll find anyone who’s going to argue with me.”

Luci touches her palm to Al’s forehead then stands, joining Alicia in blocking Casey’s exit. Casey stands in front of them, flabbergasted, for a long while. Then she starts searching for a rag and water.

“God, where do we start?” Alicia breathes. “She’s covered in –”

Luci shushes her. “She’s conscious, Alicia.”

“I know,” Alicia says. “Jesus.”

“Start with her shirt,” Casey grunts. “It’s soaked through. We’d probably be better off getting her in Grace’s shower.”

“That’s not happening,” Alicia says. “Not yet. We’re going to do our best, and we’re going to leave her alone.”

“I just told you –”

“I mean, I’ll stay with her,” Alicia snaps. “But then we’re done prodding at her for today.”

“Just cut it off,” Luci orders. “We’re not getting that sleeve over her hand.”

“I liked this shirt,” Al mumbles.

“Sorry, sweetie,” Luci says. “We’ll find you another one.”

“Not white.”

Alicia winces. She takes the scissors from Casey and cuts Al out of the shirt soaked with June’s – and her own – blood. There’s just blood everywhere. Casey shoos Alicia and Luci out of the way and starts wiping it from Al’s face. It’s mostly dried, which is a bit of an issue, but Casey works quickly to get it cleaned away.

“It’s all in her hair,” Casey grumbles. “Do you expect me to take care of that, too?”

“I’ll handle it,” Alicia says. “Luci. What the hell are we going to have her wear?”

“I thought we were going to leave her like that,” Luci admits.

“We can’t –”

As they bicker, Al opens her eyes. She stares in confusion at the blonde woman hovering over her. Al’s vision is hazy, but she sees the important things. The blonde hair, tied back messily. The hoop pierced through her lower lip, the bar through her eyebrow. Al’s eyes drop to the woman’s arm, to the colorful images inked from her wrist up to her shoulder. Al’s eyebrows pull together as the woman gently drags the damp rag across her forehead.

She should close her eyes. Pass out. Deal with this later. But she _can’t_, because that woman –

“Sawyer?” Al mumbles.

Alicia’s entire body tenses. Luci looks to her in confusion and says, “What? Who’s Sawyer?”

Alicia pushes past Luci, knocks Casey aside, and takes Al’s hand in both of hers. Al’s eyes lift to Alicia’s face, swimming in tears, and Alicia falters. She doesn’t know what to say, what to do. Casey’s huffing behind her, waving the rag around and motioning toward the blood covering Al’s abdomen.

“It’s okay,” Alicia whispers. “Okay? It’s all okay.”

Al’s eyes close, and she swallows hard. When her eyes reopen, they’re unfocused. Alicia exhales and tries to keep her hands from shaking.

“God,” Al breathes out. “She’s dead, too, isn’t she? It’s my fault, just like June –”

Alicia shushes her gently. “It’s okay,” Alicia assures her. She clears her throat to keep her voice from breaking. “It’s not your fault, okay?”

“It’s my fault,” Al moans.

“What is going on?” Casey asks.

“Shut up,” Alicia replies.

“Is she okay?” Luci asks, appearing at Alicia’s side.

“She’s fine,” Alicia says. “Just – give her some space.”

“I wasn’t there,” Al breathes. “I couldn’t save her.”

“What is she talking about?” Casey asks.

Alicia hesitates. “I don’t know,” she lies. “Just – finish cleaning her up, okay? Then you can go. Hurry up.”

Casey works quickly, only pausing when she grazes the rag over the tattoo at Al’s ribcage. “No one told me she speaks Swedish,” Casey says.

“She doesn’t,” Alicia replies.

“Well, I’m reading Swedish,” Casey says, tapping her finger against the words on Al’s ribcage. “And it’s inked onto her body.”

“She doesn’t speak Swedish,” Alicia spits.

“She’s got a fucking Swedish proverb on her,” Casey says hotly, “and you’re telling me she’s not Swedish.”

“Does she look Swedish?” Alicia questions. “Her last name is Szewczek-Przygocki. That isn’t fucking Swedish. Forget it, okay?”

Luci sends Alicia a concerned look, but Casey just shakes her head and finishes wiping up the blood. She throws the rag aside and asks, “Am I good now, boss?”

“Go,” Alicia commands.

“Thank you,” Luci adds.

“Just don’t forget about the antibiotics,” Casey mutters.

“I got it,” Alicia says. After a moment, she grudgingly adds, “Thanks.”

Casey looks warily from Al to Alicia. “Call if you need something,” Casey says.

Alicia nods. Casey takes off, and Alicia exhales shakily. “Luci, I need you to make sure everything’s running smoothly, okay? Check in on John. Make sure the supplies from the house are packed properly. I’ll stay with Al for now.”

“We have to leave,” Luci says.

“The walkers are taken care of?” Alicia asks.

“Yes,” Luci says. “Daniel handled it.”

“Good. We have some time, then.”

Luci claps Alicia on the shoulder. “The worst is over,” Luci says.

“For now.”

“For now,” Luci agrees. “You’re sure you’re good here?”

“Yes.”

“Alicia.”

Al watches Alicia look back at Luci, but Alicia’s eyes quickly return to Al’s face. Al tightens her hold on Alicia’s hand, and Alicia presses her lips together. “Yeah,” Alicia finally says.

“Take care of her until I’m back.”

“I will.”

*

Al doesn’t know how long she sleeps. She wakes up frequently, though, and every time, Alicia’s still at her side, still clutching onto her hand. Every time Al wakes up, Sawyer’s face is still swirling in her mind. Every time Al wakes up, she has to remember Sawyer is dead, just like Jesse, just like June. Every time Al wakes up, stabbing pains shoot through her left hand, and she has to remember she grabbed the barrel of a gun and sacrificed her hand for her life.

Every time Al wakes up, Alicia is there. This time is no exception.

“Hey,” Alicia says softly. She touches her palm to Al’s forehead and pushes her hair back from her face.

Al manages a smile that quickly becomes a grimace, but she says, “Hey yourself.”

Alicia smiles wearily, stroking her fingers through Al’s sweat dampened hair. “You okay?” Alicia asks.

“No,” Al says. “You?”

Alicia chuckles and shakes her head. “Not at all.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

Al grins. “Can you find me a shirt?”

“Oh,” Alicia says. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Alicia digs up a T-shirt but pauses when she realizes she’s not going to be able to get a shirt on Al while she’s laying down. Al holds her hand out to stop Alicia then slowly starts to shimmy herself up into a seated position. Alicia rushes to help her, and Al leans back into the van for support, careful not to disturb her bandaged hand. Her bad hand goes into the shirt first, gently, then Al manages to get it over her head.

“What do you remember?” Alicia finally asks.

Al blinks. “Everything.”

Alicia nods. She drops onto the seats next to Al, on her good side. She must be afraid of hurting Al or something.

“Don’t try to keep anything from me,” Al says. “You may be in charge, but we’re in this together.”

“The funeral’s tomorrow morning,” Alicia informs. “The body’s in the ground, but I had them hold off on the funeral so you could attend.”

“Thank you.”

Alicia waves it off. Al studies the side of Alicia’s face, but she just looks…exhausted. “We haven’t left,” Alicia says. “We’re still parked at the house, which is stupid, but…I don’t know. I’m not good at this. I didn’t ask to hold all these lives in my hands.”

“It just happened.”

“It just happened,” Alicia agrees.

“You aren’t alone,” Al says. “You have me. Luci.”

Alicia huffs. “No offense, but you’re a mess.”

Al grins. “You have Luci. Strand.”

“Yeah.” Alicia sighs. “Do you think you can eat? You have to take antibiotics, and I can get painkillers –”

“Later,” Al says. “Okay? Right now, I just want – Alicia?”

Alicia hunches forward, hair shielding her face, but her body shakes. Al’s lucky she’s capable of sitting up. Comforting Alicia isn’t really something she can handle right now, but nonetheless, she grasps onto Alicia’s shoulder with her good hand. Alicia falls into her, and Al gets her arm wrapped around Alicia’s neck and hangs on. Alicia’s careful even while sobbing not to hurt Al.

“I can’t,” Alicia chokes out. “I can’t lead these people.”

“You don’t have to,” Al murmurs.

“I do. And – and you’re _hurt_, and I can’t do anything about it. And John – and Luci –”

“It’s okay,” Al cuts in.

“And how are you even _up_?” Alicia wheezes. “You should be resting!”

“It’s just my hand,” Al argues. “I’ve already spent most of the day unconscious.” Al lifts her arm to allow Alicia to sit up straight and swipe at her eyes, slowly pulling herself together. Al smirks, refusing to let the pain she feels show on her face. Alicia stares at her in disbelief. “Maybe you’re right, though,” Al says. “I confused Casey for my ex, which is embarrassing as hell, so I should want to be unconscious, right?”

“I’m the only one who knows what it meant,” Alicia says.

Al nods stiffly. “And apparently Casey knows Swedish. Go figure. You were right.” Al pauses then jokes, “Maybe I should get her number.”

Alicia rolls her eyes. “I’ll put in a good word for you.”

Al’s smile slides. “Hey, I was kidding,” Al says. “I don’t – I mean, Casey has a boyfriend, right?”

“I don’t know.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Al continues. She winces as another wave of pain flashes through her hand but pushes it aside.

“You need to eat something,” Alicia insists. “So I can pump you full of painkillers –”

“I don’t need painkillers, sweetheart,” Al interrupts. “Not yet.”

“You don’t – what?” Alicia says dumbly. “No offense, but your hand was blown to shit. That’s got to –”

God, Alicia needs to shut up. Al grabs Alicia by the shirt and pulls Alicia toward her. Alicia startles into silence but quickly melts the moment their lips touch. Alicia braces one hand against Al’s chest, brings the other to the back of her head and holds them together. Al’s careful to keep her bad hand out of the way, but it’s easy to forget about the pain. Alicia’s fingers tangle in Al’s hair. A moan rumbles in the back of Alicia’s throat, and Al pops three buttons on Alicia’s shirt one-handedly before Alicia realizes what she’s doing.

Alicia pulls back, panting, and presses her forehead against Al’s. “What are you doing?” Alicia says.

“What?” Al says. “You want me to stop?”

“Your hand –”

“I could’ve died,” Al says. “Forget my left hand. I’ll make it work.”

Alicia laughs and pushes back from Al. “You need to rest,” Alicia says. “But after you eat and –”

“And take pills,” Al finishes. “Boring.”

Alicia starts to duck back in, but the back of the van opens, and Alicia jumps to her feet. Al looks disgruntled until Luci steps in.

“Everything’s set – why is your shirt half unbuttoned?” Luci says. Alicia’s face burns red, and she mutters something about it being hot as Al grins and sends a wink Luci’s way. Luci silently mouths _oh_ then motions to the doors. “I can go –”

“It’s fine,” Alicia says loudly. She buttons her shirt up to her neck and takes up the other side of the van. “Make sure she eats and takes her pills and whatever.”

Luci nods and meets Al’s gaze. Luci barely holds in a giggle as Alicia pulls a blanket over her head and pretends to be asleep.

“Are we going to talk about this?” Luci asks.

“Not at all,” Al says.

“Good,” Luci replies. “Because I don’t really want to know. Here, eat this.”

*

Al grunts. Her head feels foggy, and she bets it’s the painkillers lingering in her system. The pain in her hand is dulled, but Al could probably use another dose of pills. Whatever they’re giving her, it’s the good shit. Al opens her eyes, squinting against the light streaming into the van, and all of yesterday’s events come crashing down on her. She’s getting good at handling it, though. But it’s early in the morning, and that means June’s funeral is coming. And that’s the kind of pain that no pill is going to solve.

Al groans and lifts her head, but she’s not going anywhere. Luci’s asleep against the edge of the seats, one arm supporting her head while the other rests against Al’s chest. She fell asleep sitting on the floor of the van beside Al. That’s dedication. Al jostles Luci awake, but she finds the pain pills within her reach and takes her morning dose before Luci’s eyes are open.

“What’s going on?” Luci mumbles.

“You fell asleep,” Al says. Al grins. “And you owe me dinner.”

“Huh?”

Al grabs Luci’s hand off her chest, and Luci quickly pulls away. “You’ve got your hands all over me, Galvez,” Al chuckles. “So you owe me dinner.”

“Please,” Luci snorts. “That was nothing.”

“If you want to fight Alicia for a chance with me –”

“Stop while you’re ahead,” Luci says, grinning. She yawns and stretches then gets to her feet. She throws a protein bar at Al then hands her the morning’s antibiotics and water. Al complies, eating and swallowing antibiotics, then her eyes fall on Alicia. She’s still fast asleep, tangled in blankets, jaw hanging open.

“She slept through the night,” Al comments.

“It was a rough day,” Luci mutters. She takes a seat at the end of the row, lifting Al’s legs and setting them onto her lap. “Hey,” Luci says, tapping her hand against Al’s shin. “I found something in the house yesterday.”

“Yeah?”

Luci smirks. “Yeah. Something good. Get me after the funeral.”

Al nods solemnly then pushes her hand through her hair. “Can I shower?” she asks. “I think I owe June,” Al can’t stop herself from choking on the name, but she pushes through, “at least that much.”

Luci nods. “We’ll go before Alicia wakes up.”

“We?” Al questions.

“I saw what that bullet did to your hand,” Luci says. “If you want to go on your own –”

“I’m not complaining.”

Luci shakes her head, fighting a smile. “Stop it,” she warns. They exchange grins, though, and Luci gets to her feet. “Come on. Before the whole caravan wakes up.”

Al smiles lazily and holds her hand out for Luci. “Help me.”

Luci gets Al to her feet and pulls Al’s arm around her neck. “Don’t fall,” Luci warns. “I won’t catch you.”

“My hand was blown apart,” Al replies. “My legs work.”

Luci hums and leads Al to Grace’s truck. Luci gets the shower fired up while Al struggles to get out of her clothes. Al grabs a fistful of her shirt at the back of her neck and pulls, but she gets stuck halfway and has to let Luci free her.

“Try not to get your hand wet,” Luci says. “I don’t want to have to wake Casey up so she can bandage it again.”

“Alicia can do it later,” Al dismisses. “It’s just changing a bandage, right?”

“And checking for infection,” Luci adds. She’s careful to keep her eyes on Al’s face while Al grins, and Luci shakes her head. “Hurry and shower before Alicia realizes we’re gone.”

Al shrugs but steps under the water. She complains about the blood dried in her hair, and it takes forever until Al’s sure she’s gotten all of it out. She tries not to think about how it belongs to June. Luci sits on the hood of the truck and waits until Al shuts the water off.

“Towel,” Al calls.

“You aren’t helpless,” Luci replies. Even so, she throws a towel Al’s way. “Get dressed.”

“Why?” Al says. “Don’t like what you see?”

Luci rolls her eyes. “I’m not looking.”

“Why not?” Al says. She rubs the towel over her hair with her good hand then holds it to her chest, grinning lopsidedly. “What have you got to lose?”

Luci snorts. “The ability to look you in the eye?”

“Nah.”

“My dignity?”

“Ouch,” Al laughs.

Luci cracks a weary smile. “C’mon, put your pants on.”

“You sound like June,” Al says. The drugs make the words come all too easy. “Telling me to put pants on in the middle of the night so we can go help some dumbass.”

Luci tenses. “Al.”

“What?”

“Put your clothes on.”

“Fine,” Al grumbles. She manages to get dressed, mostly on her own, and fixes her hair. She cracks her neck, grimacing, then asks, “So? Good enough for a funeral?”

Luci doesn’t answer. She flings her arms around Al’s neck, and Al only manages to get her good arm around Luci’s back after her momentary shock passes. “Don’t you die, too,” Luci says next to Al’s ear. “Alicia won’t recover.”

“I – I’m not planning on dying,” Al says.

“Good,” Luci says forcefully. She releases Al and clears her throat. “Let’s get Alicia and hold the funeral so we can move the caravan.”

“You shouldn’t treat me like I’m leading this thing,” Al says. “I’m high.”

“I noticed.”

“My hand feels fucking great, man. I could use it –”

“Don’t try,” Luci says sharply.

“I’m just saying.”

Luci shakes her head. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s get Alicia.”

*

John’s the only one that cries during the funeral. The entire caravan attends, gathered around June’s gravesite, but everyone is eerily quiet. Before long, most of the caravan has dispersed, leaving Al, Alicia, Luci, Charlie, John, and Strand alone. Alicia and Luci have already determined where to move; now it’s just a matter of getting John to Strand’s truck. Alicia’s already approved for Luci to temporarily move into the van.

It isn’t until Luci and Charlie help Strand get John away that Al truly realizes what this means.

June’s gone.

Even through the haze of the drugs, Al feels that pain acutely. She hits the grass on her knees, and Alicia rushes to prevent her from landing on her face or hurting her hand further. Al reaches out, snagging a fistful of Alicia’s shirt. Alicia holds onto her shoulder but quickly changes course and pulls Al against her stomach, letting Al cling to her as she strokes her fingers through Al’s hair.

“I’m sorry,” Alicia whispers. “I know you thought you’d never –” Alicia cuts herself off, and Al lets it go, because Alicia’s right. Here she is. Crying at a funeral.

Al pulls herself together and allows Alicia to help her to her feet. “I need pills,” Al says bluntly.

“You’re maxed out,” Alicia says. “Until tonight. Come on. You need to lie down. You’re stuck in the van until you heal.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not now,” Alicia replies. “It’s time to go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So shit just goes downhill from here lol. I do think 8 chapters is feasible, and I've got chapter 5 started at least, so stay tuned. This chapter's title is from 100x.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


	5. i know my screaming and shouting won't keep you

_Three months later_

The laughter wakes Alicia up long before the doors banging shut has the chance to. Alicia sits up in confusion, squinting through the darkness.

“_Shh_!” Luci says loudly. “Alicia’s asleep!”

They giggle. Al trips and falls into Luci, and Luci yelps in surprise but keeps both of them on their feet. Alicia takes a breath to calm herself and gets to her feet.

“Again?” Alicia questions.

Al and Luci jump. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Al says. She’d be more convincing if her words weren’t slurring together.

“We’re just having fun,” Luci defends. “And have you seen Al’s hand? It’s a _mess_.”

“Thanks,” Al says solemnly. She turns the back of her left hand toward Alicia. “If we had more pain pills, I wouldn’t have to get drunk.”

Alicia sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. She can’t wait until they run out of alcohol, too. She can’t lead this caravan all by herself, and Luci and Al can’t help her if they get drunk most nights and wake up with killer hangovers. Al spends half her days sleeping, and Luci spends half her days on the floor next to Al, holding onto a bucket while Al snores her hangover away.

“This isn’t productive,” Alicia says wearily.

“We’re fine,” Luci assures her. “Just need to sleep it off.”

Al hums in agreement. She grins lazily and grabs onto Alicia’s shoulder to stop herself from swaying. “You’re very pretty,” Al says. Alicia knows she’s a sucker, but she doesn’t stop Al from kissing her anyway.

“Way to remind me that I’m alone,” Luci complains. “Get a room.”

Alicia pushes Al back, making a face, as Al retorts, “This is our room. _You _get a room.”

Alicia presses her hand to Al’s chest and says, “You taste like whiskey.”

“_You_ taste like whiskey,” Al mumbles.

“This is it,” Alicia announces. “If you guys come back drunk one more time, I’m putting you in a car with a bunch of kids while you’re hungover. We’ll see how that goes.”

“That’s mean,” Luci says.

“You know what’s mean?” Alicia replies. “Leaving me and Charlie to do all the dirty work while you two nurse your hangovers and Victor watches over John. _That’s _pretty mean. So sleep it off and be done. Al, don’t forget Casey’s coming in the morning to check your hand, so please, don’t sleep naked.”

“That happened one time,” Al says. “Luci, sleep in the front.”

“You sleep in the front.”

Alicia sleeps in the front, just to shut them up. Al snores through the entire night, like she always does when she’s drunk, and Alicia hears the _thunk _of the numerous objects Luci throws at Al throughout the night as they bounce off the wall of the van. Alicia falls asleep around five in the morning and wakes up at seven to the glorious sound of Luci puking her guts up just outside of the van. Al’s still snoring, her bad arm flung across her eyes.

What a great morning.

Alicia leaves the van to do the morning check of the caravan. Charlie tags along, and Alicia doesn’t complain. She’s glad to talk to someone that’s not drunk or hungover. Mostly because Charlie’s twelve, and she hasn’t been allowed to drink since the antifreeze incident. The caravan’s led by a twenty-four year old and a twelve year old. Alicia has never missed Morgan more than she does right now.

“Luci’s sick?” Charlie questions as they walk past the van. “Wasn’t she just sick, like, last week?”

Alicia grunts. “Yeah, well, she’s sick again.”

“Do you think it’s contagious?”

“Definitely not.”

“How do you know?”

Alicia sighs. “Just trust me. I know.”

“How’s Al?” Charlie presses.

“She’s Al.”

Charlie nods thoughtfully. “How’s her hand?”

“Healing.”

“Does it work?”

“No.”

“Will it –?”

“Charlie,” Alicia cuts in as nicely as she can at seven in the morning. “It’s early. Can I answer your questions later?”

Charlie nods, and Alicia bangs on the truck Casey shares with her boyfriend. It takes two full minutes to rouse Casey.

“What?” Casey grumbles.

“You said you’d check Al’s hand,” Alicia says.

“Oh. Right. How’s she doing?”

“Wonderful.”

Casey’s eyes flick to Charlie. “So she’s still drunk.”

“Yeah.”

Casey nods. “Still asking for pain pills?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t you think you should do something about that?”

“What do you suggest?” Alicia sneers.

“Smash the bottles,” Casey says. “And tell Al no more pain pills no matter what. She’s totally addicted to them.”

“She’s not,” Alicia snaps. “I’ve seen addiction.”

Casey snorts. “Okay then. Tell yourself whatever you need to.”

“And I would smash the bottles,” Alicia says. “If I knew where Luci’s been hiding them.”

“No offense,” Casey says, “but you’re a shit leader.”

“Thanks.”

“I think she’s good,” Charlie defends.

Alicia sighs. When they reach the van, Luci has at least gone back inside. She’s collapsed on the floor beside Al’s bed, and Al’s still snoring like a freight train. Shit really fell apart with June’s death. Who would’ve guessed June was the one holding everything together?

“Wake her up,” Alicia tells Casey.

“God, how do you sleep?” Casey says. She grabs Al carefully by the forearm and moves her bad arm away from her face. She shakes Al until she wakes up, disoriented, and begins her check of Al’s hand.

“Ow, man, what the fuck?” Al blurts, bolting upright. She winces, clutching at her head with her free hand. “Jesus.”

“You feel that?” Casey questions.

“Yeah, fucking hurts.”

“There’s a kid here,” Casey points out.

“Charlie’s not a kid,” Al argues. “She’s our second leader.”

Charlie beams, but Alicia frowns. “That’s not a good thing, Al,” Alicia shoots. “You and Luci are supposed to be the leaders with me, not a twelve year old.”

“I’m almost thirteen,” Charlie pipes up.

“Ow!” Al complains. She tries to yank her hand away from Casey, but Casey holds on. “Stop jabbing my hand.”

“There’s nothing I can do,” Casey says.

“That’s it?” Alicia says.

“It is what it is,” Casey confirms. “Which is what I said last time, if I’m remembering correctly.” She looks to Al. “Your head wouldn’t hurt if you stopped drinking, you know.”

“Fuck off, man,” Al replies. “Mind your own business.”

Casey looks to Alicia. “You’ve got yourself a real keeper,” she quips. Alicia dismisses her, and Casey is happy to go.

“What a bitch,” Al whines.

“Actually,” Alicia says, “Casey has been very helpful.”

Al’s eyes narrow. “Since when do you like Casey?”

“Probably since the same time you and Luci became drinking buddies three nights a week _at least_,” Alicia shoots. “Charlie, go tell Annie to do a count of all the caravan members, okay? Help her with that. We’re supposed to move today.”

Charlie nods, leaving Alicia to handle Al and Luci. Alicia works on getting Luci off the floor, for starters, and onto the seats. Al watches with a disgruntled look on her face until Alicia stops and stares back.

“Are you going to help me?” Alicia demands. “Or just sit there and watch me struggle?”

“You’re making this harder than it has to be,” Al says. She gets to her feet and holds her good hand out to Luci. “Luci. Come on. Get your ass up.”

To Alicia’s surprise, Luci takes Al’s hand and lets Al haul her up to her feet. She stumbles right into Al, and Al catches her under the arms, grunting.

“You two are the worst,” Alicia says. “Literally the worst.”

“That’s not what you were saying the other night,” Al replies.

“Gross!” Luci complains. “You’re gonna make me throw up again.”

“Jesus, learn how to hold your liquor,” Al jokes. “Come on. Lie down.”

*

Al and Luci spend most of the day napping, as Alicia expects. She drives the van to the new spot, she gets the caravan settled single-handedly, and she does her routine check on Victor and John. John looks like he’s aged ten years in three months, and Victor’s still fuming over how Al and Luci get drunk all the time when he has to stay sober.

“You’re wasting your time,” John tells Alicia.

“I’m not,” she says. “Victor.”

“Alicia,” he replies. “How’re the drunks?”

“Sleeping.”

Victor nods. “Have you found their stash yet?”

“No. Have you?”

Victor cracks a smile. “No. But I’m trying. Johnny’s been holding back my search efforts.”

John grunts. Victor pats him on the shoulder.

“If you ever find their stash, send some my way,” Victor says.

“Two drunks is enough,” Alicia replies. She pauses. “Thanks for your help.”

Victor nods. Alicia spares one last glance at John, but he’s staring absently out the windshield off at the trees. Alicia returns to the van to find Al and Luci passed out in a heap on the floor, and Alicia could’ve sworn when she left, they were both passed out on the seats on opposite sides of the van instead. But now, Luci’s head’s resting on Al’s chest as Al snores away. Alicia swallows down the emotions rising in her throat, takes a moment to collect herself, then shakes them both awake.

“Get up!” Alicia shouts. “Come on. You two are gonna watch the caravan while I take a nap.”

“We’re in no shape –” Luci begins, but Alicia swiftly cuts her off.

“You’re hungover,” Alicia says. “Take some aspirin, drink some water, and suck it the fuck up. If you need help, Charlie should be available.”

“That’s just insulting,” Al says.

“It should be. A twelve year old leads better than you two. Jesus. Get it together.”

Alicia climbs into the front of the van and settles in for her nap, but now she has to deal with Luci and Al complaining about headaches and being dehydrated. And if that’s not bad enough, the moment before Alicia falls asleep, Luci gets the bright idea to start filming.

“Get that off of me,” Al says. Alicia hears her swat the camera away, and her eyes pop back open.

“I’m doing a new series,” Luci jokes. “Called _Apocalypse Confessionals_. So confess your deepest, darkest secrets, Al.”

“Knock it off,” Al laughs. “Go film the kids. They love that shit.”

“They love attention,” Luci corrects. “And so do you.”

“Stop filming me.”

“Why? Your face is one that deserves to be preserved,” Luci says. They both bust out laughing, as if Alicia hadn’t announced that she was trying to nap.

“Don’t flatter me,” Al says.

“You’re right. That’s Alicia’s job. Maybe if you weren’t _drunk _all the time, she’d make more of an effort.”

“Rude,” Al says. “Besides, you’re always drunk, too.”

“I can’t let you get drunk alone,” Luci defends. “What kind of friend would that make me?”

So they definitely think Alicia’s already asleep. She bites back the urge to yell at both of them and shamelessly eavesdrops. It’s their own fault for assuming she’s asleep.

“Yeah,” Al agrees. “That’d just be sad.”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure it’s sad anyway.”

“Don’t remind me. And turn that camera off! Jesus.”

“I told you, I’m filming _Apocalypse Confessionals_.”

“I’m not confessing anything,” Al says. “Stop focusing on my hand.”

“Not up for telling your sob story?”

“No!”

Luci hums. “You wanna just get drunk instead?”

Al sighs. “We can’t. Alicia will flip her shit more than she already has.”

“Suddenly you care.”

“I’ll stay sober until I can’t take it,” Al says.

“So until tomorrow.”

“Pretty much.”

“Like I said,” Luci says. “That’s just sad.”

“I don’t see you stopping me. If I recall, you’re always right by my side.”

“It’s sadder if you drink alone.”

There’s a long pause before Al says, “You wanna film _Apocalypse Confessionals_? How’s this: it’s all my fucking fault, man. All of it. Ever since June died – John can’t even _look _at me. I know he wishes it’d been me. Hell, sometimes I wish it’d been me, too. At least I wouldn’t be here like this.”

“Like what?” Luci asks quietly.

“I’m a fucking drunk. Again. Jesus. And my hand’s fucking useless.”

“And you’re addicted to pain pills.”

“I’m not addicted to pain pills,” Al denies.

“Sure. I believe you.”

“Oh, shut it.” There’s another pause. “June’s death is my fault. I should’ve stopped her. I should’ve known.”

“You couldn’t have.”

Al exhales. “I had the chance, and I blew it. Just like I blew it with Grace and Dwight. June died because I didn’t stand up for us. I didn’t put us before the mission. And now John being all depressed all the time is my fault, too.”

“Does Alicia know any of this?” Luci asks.

Al laughs, but it dies quickly. “No. Why would I tell her any of that? She already looks at me like I’m –”

“Like you’re what?”

“Pathetic.”

“She doesn’t think you’re pathetic.”

“Oh yeah?” Al says. “How about you ask her?”

“You ask her.”

“I told you to ask her first.”

Luci sighs. “I’m going to have to destroy this tape.”

“That’s a good idea.”

Alicia hears Luci shut the camera off and shuffle around. “I’m going to leave,” Luci informs Al. “I’ll take care of the caravan, even though I still kind of feel like throwing up. We’re switching from whiskey to something else, by the way.”

“You can switch to tequila,” Al says. “I’m sticking with whiskey.”

“Alright,” Luci agrees. “But while I’m gone, you’re going to talk to Alicia. And I’ll stay gone until the sun sets, so use your time wisely.”

Luci claps Al on the shoulder and heads for the door, but Al calls, “What do I say to her?”

“Everything you just said to me.”

“Then she’ll really think I’m pathetic.”

“There are worse things to be, I guess.”

“Not helping,” Al says.

“I don’t know,” Luci admits. “Then don’t talk.”

“There’s no reason for you to stay out until sunset,” Al says. “We probably won’t talk, and we definitely won’t be doing anything else.”

“That’s a shame,” Luci says. “Considering any of us could be dead at any time. I know if Nick was still here –”

“This isn’t something I need to hear,” Al interrupts. “Go. But I’m not waking Alicia from her nap. She’ll kill me, and I think she already wants to kill me.”

“Then stop drinking.”

Al snorts. “Yeah, I’ll just stop. Right. You stop first.”

The doors shut, leaving Alicia alone with Al. Now Alicia _really _has to pretend to be asleep. She can’t let Al know she listened in on a private conversation with Luci.

A conversation Alicia wishes Al would’ve had with her instead.

For a minute, Alicia considers letting Al know she heard the whole thing. She chances glancing toward the back of the van, catches sight of Al sitting with her good hand covering her face. She pushes her hand into her hair, sighing, and Alicia quickly turns back and closes her eyes before Al notices her staring. She hears Al get up and accidentally knock something over, cursing under her breath. Alicia seizes the opportunity to pretend to wake up, intentionally groaning as she stretches out.

Al freezes. “You’re up,” she says warily.

“I’m up,” Alicia says. She fakes a yawn and climbs into the back, flipping her hair out of her face. “How’s your hand?”

“Does it matter?” Al asks. “It’s not like we have anything to treat the pain with.”

That’s a good thing, if Casey and Luci happen to be right about Al’s potential addiction, and frankly, Alicia’s always terrified they’ll pick up more on each run.

“Is that how you’re excusing your drinking?” Alicia questions.

Al rolls her eyes. “You let me worry about that.”

“People are noticing,” Alicia says.

“And? Why am I supposed to care about them?”

Alicia slams her hand into the side of the van, and Al jumps, raising her hands defensively even though her left hand is of no help. Alicia quickly reins herself in, curling her hand into a fist at her side and taking a deep breath.

“Look,” Alicia says, forcing her voice to stay even, “I know June’s death disrupted the way –”

“Stop,” Al interrupts. “Just stop. June’s death ruined _everything_.”

“Including you,” Alicia says.

Al balks. “What?”

“Including you,” Alicia repeats. “June died, and it ruined everything, including you.”

Al bares her teeth, pressing into Alicia’s space, but Alicia holds her ground. Her eyes lift to Al’s face, and Alicia is careful to keep her expression neutral. “You put a bullet through your best friend’s skull,” Al says through her teeth, “and then come tell me what it does to you.”

Alicia swallows hard. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Bullshit!” Al snarls.

“You did what you had to.”

“I should’ve stopped it before we ever got there,” Al hisses. “But I didn’t, so my best friend is dead, the love of her life hates my guts, and I have one working hand –”

“And you’re an alcoholic,” Alicia says coolly.

Al hesitates. “No.”

“You can’t stop.”

“I could if I wanted to.”

“But you don’t want to,” Alicia says.

“Like I said,” Al says. “You let me worry about that.”

“No,” Alicia insists. “I’m in charge –”

Al snorts. “You’re pulling rank?”

Alicia brings her hand up to Al’s shoulder, and Al’s eye twitches, but she doesn’t move away from Alicia’s touch. “I can’t keep letting you guys do this,” Alicia says. “For the caravan’s sake, yes, but I’m also not going to let you and Luci poison yourself –”

“That’s not your decision.”

Alicia’s fingers twist into the material of Al’s shirt at her shoulder as Alicia takes a deep breath. Yelling isn’t going to help, she tells herself.

“You’re not the only person here that’s having a hard time,” Alicia says. “Drinking until you blackout doesn’t help anything.”

Al’s jaw clenches. “Do you know what I see every time I close my eyes?”

“No,” Alicia says. She shoves Al back, releasing her shirt. “Because you don’t tell me _anything_. But you get drunk with Luci, and you spend all day in the van with Luci, and you talk to _Luci_ – you don’t talk to _me_. Ever.”

Al falters. “Are you – since when do you have a problem with Luci?”

“I don’t have a problem with Luci,” Alicia spits. “I have a problem with you leaning on her for _everything_ when you’re supposed to – I thought we were in this together, and now I can barely get a minute alone with you. Ever since June died, you and Luci have been joined at the hip.”

“We’re friends.”

“And what am I?” Alicia demands. “Huh? Can you even answer that?”

“Alicia –”

“No,” Alicia snaps. “Answer the question.”

“What do you think we are?” Al asks in return.

Alicia shakes her head. “I don’t even know, Al. More recently, it seems like I’m just the girl you fuck on the days you’re forced to be sober and you’re sad and lonely and –”

“None of that is true!”

“Well, you get everything else from Luci!” Alicia blurts. “So what else do you even need me for if not that?”

Al swallows. She doesn’t seem to have an answer to that. “Alicia –”

“Stop,” Alicia says. She pushes her hand against Al’s chest to keep her out of her space. “Just stop, Al. Jesus. You act like you’re the only one that has shit to deal with. Your best friend died in the worst way possible, but you aren’t the only person it affected. You aren’t the only person who’s having a hard time.”

“Alicia, I’m sorry –”

“And you aren’t here,” Alicia whispers. She wipes at her eyes with her sleeve. “Even when you are, you’re not _really _here. You’re drunk or hungover or asleep or too focused on Luci –”

“I’m here now,” Al insists. She reaches out, but Alicia knocks her arm away.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Alicia says shakily. “Just don’t.”

Al purposefully holds her hands up in a surrender-like gesture then drops them to her side, wincing. “I’m sorry,” Al says. “We can talk –”

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

“Please,” Al says quietly.

“You only want to talk now because I’ve called it to your attention,” Alicia says.

“No, you’re right,” Al says. “I’m acting like I’m the only one going through anything –”

“How many times have I screamed myself awake?” Alicia asks abruptly. “Just in the past week?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Al shakes her head, thinking. “You haven’t,” Al answers.

Alicia smiles thinly, eyes still shining with tears. “Three times,” Alicia says in a voice that’s barely audible. “You didn’t even wake up. Luci did.”

Al’s jaw hangs open, and Alicia watches the guilt flash across her face. “And you didn’t tell me.”

“Why would I?” Alicia scoffs. “Luci’s your support. Why should you be mine?”

“Alicia –”

“You know, I thought I’d be leading this stupid caravan with you at my side,” Alicia says. “I knew I’d be able to handle all the hard shit if you were just _there_, but I had to put Zach down the other day. By myself. And you and Luci were nowhere to be found.”

Before Al can respond, the walkie crackles to life. “Alicia?” Casey says.

Alicia steps away to retrieve the walkie. “I copy.”

“There’s a problem,” Casey says. “It’s Mia.”

Alicia sighs heavily. “I’ll be right there,” she promises. Alicia’s eyes flick down to Al’s left hand, to the jagged scarring covering the back of it. “Try not to hurt yourself while I’m gone,” Alicia says. “Maybe work on sleeping off that hangover.”

“What does she mean there’s a problem with Mia?” Al questions. When Alicia shows no sign of turning back, Al grabs her elbow and pulls her away from the back doors. Alicia immediately yanks her arm free, glaring, but Al waits for a response.

“Apparently Eric didn’t lie about his baby being sick,” Alicia says. “We don’t know what it is.”

“And we’re taking that chance?” Al questions.

“If it was contagious, someone else would’ve gotten sick by now,” Alicia replies. “Just butt out, Al. You don’t know anything about this.”

*

“I don’t know what it is,” Casey admits. “Nothing we’ve given her works.”

Alicia nods. “Do you think – what are her chances of surviving?”

“Without knowing what we’re dealing with?” Casey asks. “I have no clue.”

“Do I tell the family to keep a close eye on her or not?” Alicia questions.

Casey sighs heavily and shakes her head. “I think you should,” Casey says. “Just to be safe.” She pauses. “If you’d rather have me do it – I mean, I can take care of it. You look…rough.”

“Thanks,” Alicia chuckles.

“You need to sleep,” Casey says sternly.

“I know.”

“I’ll deal with the family,” Casey promises. “You go rest.”

“I can’t,” Alicia says. “Someone has to make sure nothing gets out of hand.”

“Promise me you’ll sleep well tonight then. Even if that means getting away from your friends.”

“I’ll sleep,” Alicia says. “Don’t worry.” Casey hums doubtfully, but Alicia ignores it and adds, “Call if anything changes.”

“Got it.”

Alicia walks off, but she’s stopped three times on her way back to the van, because there’s always someone that needs something from her. She sends the fourth person that approaches her immediately to Daniel, but she almost slips up and tells them to see Charlie instead. God, Alicia needs to stop thinking of Charlie as her second-in-command. The poor girl’s just a kid.

“Alicia!”

“Now what?” Alicia blurts. She turns around to face a startled Luci and sighs. “I’m sorry,” Alicia says. “What’s up?”

“Have you seen Al?” Luci asks breathlessly.

“She’s in the van,” Alicia replies.

“I was just there,” Luci says. “She’s not there.”

“She’s not there?” Alicia says. “Are you _sure_?”

“I just came from there,” Luci says. “I’m sure.”

“Where would she go?”

“The gun’s not in her safe,” Luci says. “So she’s armed, wherever she is.”

“Have you tried the radio?” Alicia asks.

“Her radio’s in the van,” Luci replies.

Alicia forces herself to stay calm. She can’t call a search party without at least trying to find Al first. She doesn’t want to put the entire caravan on high alert. Yet. “Start looking,” Alicia orders. “Ask around. Radio me if you find anything out.”

Luci nods. They split up, and as Luci frantically searches the other vehicles, Alicia rushes out to the nearest road. She has the gun barrel in her hand, held at her side, and she scans her surroundings for any sign of Al.

“Luci, you got anything?” Alicia asks over the walkie.

“Not yet.”

“I’m gonna go up the road,” Alicia informs. “Just to make sure.”

_Shit_. How could this have happened? Al wouldn’t actually leave, let alone on foot, would she?

Alicia doesn’t have to go far. There’s a small clearing less than a half a mile away, just off the road, and Alicia comes to an abrupt stop. She barely keeps herself from dropping the gun barrel to the pavement, swallowing hard. She clips it to her belt and grabs the walkie.

“Luci, I got her,” Alicia says quietly. “It’s okay.”

Luci says something back, but Alicia doesn’t hear it. She steps off the road into the small field of purple flowers, and something in her chest clenches. Alicia takes deliberate steps, trying not to smash the flowers beneath her boots, and she lowers herself to the ground beside Al. Al doesn’t look over. She’s got the handgun she killed Grace and Dwight with in her good hand. Her arms are propped against her knees, and she’s staring down at something resting between her legs.

“You can’t just walk off like that,” Alicia says. She leans forward to see whatever Al’s looking at, but Al’s purposefully blocking her view. Alicia grabs the gun, momentarily distracting Al long enough to get eyes on the bottle of whiskey propped against her leg. Al’s entire body tenses, and Alicia yanks the gun out of her hand first and foremost. She tosses it somewhere over her shoulder and dives for the bottle at the same time that Al gets her good arm around her neck.

Alicia wins easily, though. The moment she touches her fingers to Al’s bad hand, Al cries out and yanks away, giving Alicia enough time to scoop up the bottle and stagger to her feet. The bottle’s not anywhere near full as it is, but while Al recovers, Alicia twists the cap off and takes a swig. Al glares up at her, cradling her hand to her chest, and she can only verbally protest when Alicia dumps the rest of the bottle’s contents into the flowers.

“Fuck you,” Al spits.

“No,” Alicia replies. “Fuck _you_.”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you!”

Al gets to her feet after she picks the gun back up, and for half a second, Alicia’s afraid she’s going to have to pull an Al and grab the barrel to keep Al from shooting her. But of course, Al just jams the gun into her waistband and stands among the flowers in front of Alicia. Alicia’s eyes drop to the ground, and for some reason, her mind’s trying to determine if these are the same flowers that Nick had found or if they’re different.

She can’t remember.

“You still can’t just walk away,” Alicia says. “You had Luci worried – I was worried.”

“Show me the rule that says I can’t go for a walk,” Al says.

“You can’t go without telling anyone you’re leaving,” Alicia says. “You can’t do that to us.”

Al grunts. “Fine.” Al lowers herself to the ground and lies back, turning her eyes up to the clouds in the sky. For a long while, Alicia stands frozen a few feet away. “Did you have to dump my alcohol?” Al asks.

“Yes.”

“Did you have to drink from it first?”

“I think if anyone deserves a drink, it’s me,” Alicia says. “But you can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Trying to drown yourself in alcohol,” Alicia says. She returns to Al’s side and takes a seat, drawing her legs to her chest. She can’t bring herself to lie down. “It won’t work. Ask Victor.”

“You don’t get it,” Al says.

“But Luci does.”

“Luci lost the love of her life,” Al snaps. “So yeah. Luci gets it.”

Ouch. That one stings. “So this isn’t about June,” Alicia says quietly.

“It’s not _all _about June,” Al says. “But June – June was the last straw.”

Fuck it. Alicia lies down on her side facing Al, though Al refuses to do anything but stare up at the sky. Al’s lower lip trembles, but she breathes deeply and evenly.

“Al,” Alicia whispers. She almost reaches for her but thinks better of it. Alicia lets her hand fall between them, curling her fingers around the nearest flower gently. “No matter how much you drink,” Alicia says, “it won’t go away.”

“Really?” Al says. “Because when I go to sleep drunk, I never see them.”

“Who?” Alicia asks.

“June. Sawyer. Jesse. Isabelle. All of them.”

Alicia has no clue who Jesse or Isabelle are, but she figures now isn’t the time to ask. “You can’t be drunk all the time,” Alicia says.

Al huffs. “What? You’re going to force me to get sober, Alicia?”

“I can’t,” Alicia says. “Only you can.”

“I won’t.”

Alicia inhales. “Do you want me to make you quit?”

“Can you?” Al asks.

“I can try.”

“You’ll have to do more than try,” Al says. “Getting me sober consumed Sawyer’s life for over a year.”

Alicia lies in stunned silence for a moment. “So this is a real thing? It’s happened before.”

Al laughs harshly. “Of course it has. Do you know what kind of shit I’ve seen? Even before the dead were eating people. You’d try anything to make it go away, too.”

“Al –”

“Don’t, okay? Don’t bother.”

They lie in the flowers for a few minutes in silence until Alicia chances breaking it. “What are you thinking about?” she asks. “Right now.”

Al presses her hand over her eyes and shakes her head. “I miss June,” she admits. “She’s just one more person I couldn’t hold onto.”

Alicia pulls Al’s hand away from her eyes and holds it in both of her own against her chest. “I’m still here,” Alicia says.

Al scoffs. “Earlier you said you feel like you’re just the girl I fuck when I’m sad and lonely and sober.”

“That was mean,” Alicia murmurs. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Maybe, but it’s fucking true, isn’t it? That’s how you feel.”

“I mean, we haven’t even fucked in, like, a couple weeks,” Alicia muses. “So maybe it’s not totally true.”

“That’s even worse.”

“Yeah,” Alicia agrees. She tightens her hold on Al’s hand when she tries to pull away. “Don’t let go,” Alicia says.

“Why?”

“Just don’t.” Alicia inhales deeply. “It can get better,” she says.

“What can?” Al asks. “Because my hand’s certainly not going to get better. John won’t get better. You’ve seen him. And if I’m sober, I have to relive –”

“Okay,” Alicia cuts in. “Okay, stop.” Alicia releases Al’s hand to push herself up, swinging one leg across Al’s hips. She plants her hands on each side of Al’s head and stares down at her. “Stop,” Alicia repeats. “We’ll figure this out, okay?”

A smile flickers on Al’s face, but her eyes gleam with unshed tears. “You’re being a little too optimistic, Alicia.”

Alicia lowers herself down, desperately kisses Al because it’s the only thing she can think to do. She’s almost surprised when Al kisses her back and grabs at her waist. Alicia pulls away to sloppily press her lips along Al’s jaw down to her neck, fingers fumbling with the buttons of her shirt. Alicia knows three things.

One: she shouldn’t have sex in a field of flowers when she’s supposed to be running the caravan.

Two: sex absolutely is not going to solve any of their problems.

And three: Alicia doesn’t care.

*

Shit, she must’ve fallen asleep. Alicia lifts her head from Al’s chest, squinting against the sunlight. She looks down at Al, also fast asleep, and Alicia can’t believe they were stupid enough not just to fall asleep out in an open field of flowers but to fall asleep _totally naked_. Alicia doesn’t remember deciding to go to sleep, but here she is, waking up. Naked. Alicia groans and tries to roll away from Al, but her leg is trapped beneath Al’s. While Alicia works on wiggling it free, she hears something. The unmistakable sound of boots on gravel.

“Oh my God!” Luci exclaims. She immediately covers her eyes and turns her back to the field of flowers.

“Luci!” Alicia says. “Jesus!”

“I can never unsee that,” Luci grumbles. “Put some clothes on! Dear Lord.”

“Why didn’t you just call?” Alicia complains. She jostles Al awake and retrieves her clothes, getting dressed as quickly as possible.

“You don’t think I did?” Luci says. “I tried ten times, and you didn’t answer.”

“We fell asleep,” Alicia explains sheepishly.

“You said you were just up the road,” Luci says. “So I came to check on you to make sure you weren’t dead.”

“Not dead,” Al pipes up.

“I see,” Luci mutters. “Are you two decent yet?”

“I am,” Alicia says. “Al. Come on. Hurry up.”

“Don’t rush me,” Al grumbles. “I have one working hand.”

Alicia rolls her eyes and swiftly buttons Al’s shirt for her. Luci says something about doing a final check of the caravan before the sun sets, and Alicia absently agrees as she fixes Al’s collar so it lays right. Al watches her the entire time, and Alicia smooths her hands over the front of Al’s shirt and smiles.

“If you two are done,” Luci says pointedly, “we can go back now.”

“Hey, earlier you wanted me to get laid,” Al retorts. “And I did.”

Luci makes a face. “I didn’t want to have to see any of it, though,” she replies. “So maybe stop falling asleep naked out in the open.”

“Maybe stop falling asleep naked out in the open,” Al mocks. Luci shoves her, and Al shoves her right back. Alicia follows a safe distance behind them, letting them have their little shoving match while she ensures there are no nearby threats. Plus Al’s got the gun jammed into her waistband, so if there was a real problem, at least they’re armed.

But there are no problems, and the final check of the caravan before sundown goes smoothly. Poor baby Mia shows no improvement, though, and Alicia just warns her caretakers to watch her carefully. By the time Alicia reaches the van, she’s ready to pass out. Her little nap in the flowers wasn’t sufficient.

“Who’s sleeping up front?” Luci yawns.

“You are,” Al says.

“No way. I _still _feel sick.”

“That’s always your excuse,” Al snorts.

“Well, it seems like I’m always hungover.”

“I’ll sleep up front,” Alicia says. Al grabs her wrist before she can walk away, though, and pulls Alicia into her, locking her arm around Alicia’s neck.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Al growls playfully.

“I wanna move out,” Luci announces.

Alicia wriggles out of Al’s grasp but grabs a fistful of her shirt, not letting her go far. “Just take that side, Luci,” Alicia says.

Luci eyes them warily. “Don’t try anything,” she warns.

*

Alicia doesn’t want to wake up. She stirs, but her face is tucked against Al’s chest, Al’s arms are loosely draped around her, and she can feel Al’s chest steadily rising and falling, and she doesn’t want to leave yet. It’s warm, but not uncomfortably warm, and for the first time in a long time, Alicia feels secure. But something prevents her from going back to sleep. There’s a distant sound, incessant chatter intermixed with static, and Alicia’s eyes pop open.

“Alicia, do you copy?” Victor shouts, causing Alicia to startle. The walkie’s somewhere on the other side of the van, closer to Luci. Alicia lifts her head and sees that Luci’s still fast asleep beneath a pile of blankets. And since Alicia’s trapped between Al’s body and the side of the van, she has to wake Al before she can get to the walkie.

“Just stay in your vehicles,” Charlie orders. Geez, that kid’s really taking her honorary second-in-command position seriously.

“Someone has to get to Alicia,” Casey says.

“I’m sure she’s just still asleep,” Victor replies.

Alicia shakes Al awake, and the moment Al shifts onto her back, Alicia climbs over her. She nearly falls to the floor when her foot catches on the blankets, but she steadies herself and grabs the walkie.

“I copy,” Alicia says breathlessly. “I’m sorry. What’s going on?”

“Walkers,” Victor says. “They’ve wandered into the caravan overnight.”

“How?” Alicia asks.

“We don’t know,” Charlie answers. “But they’ve got a few vehicles surrounded already.”

“They must be coming from the road,” Casey adds. “Everywhere else is just trees.”

Alicia heads to the back of the van and peers out the window. The van’s one of the few vehicles _not _surrounded by at least a handful of walkers. Alicia figures that’s because the walkers can’t see inside the van the way they can see inside the trucks. They have no reason to believe the van is anything but an empty, inanimate object.

“Victor,” Alicia says. “How many do you think there are?”

“Maybe fifty,” he guesses. “They’re dispersed throughout the caravan, at least.”

“What’s going on?” Al mumbles.

“Walkers,” Alicia says over her shoulder. She looks back out the window and says into the walkie, “Okay, I need a small team to help me dispatch all the walkers. Any volunteers?”

“You know you can count on me,” Victor says.

“And me,” Daniel pipes up.

“Count me and Blake in,” Casey says.

“And me.”

Alicia turns back. Al’s up, sliding into a pair of sweats. She shakes Luci awake then pulls a sweatshirt on, knocking the hood off her head and looking to Alicia.

“No,” Alicia says. “I’m going to need someone to watch John.”

“It’s definitely not going to be me,” Al says. “Luci. Wake up. We’re under attack.”

Luci bolts upright, flinging her blankets to the floor. Alicia grabs the gun barrel, hooking her walkie to her belt. Al grabs her trench spike, but Alicia swiftly disarms her, shaking her head. “I don’t need you to help,” Alicia says. “I need you to stay here.”

“Well, that’s not happening,” Al says. She holds her hand out. “Give it here.”

“No.”

“Guys,” Luci grumbles. “This isn’t –”

“Stay out of it,” Alicia snaps. She sets the trench spike aside. “You’re staying here. Both of you. That’s final.”

“Don’t use your _leader of the caravan _voice on me,” Al spits.

“Don’t undermine my authority.”

Al’s eyebrows raise. “Your authority? Jesus, Alicia –”

“Guys!” Luci butts in. She steps into the space between them, holding one arm out toward Al and one toward Alicia, and Alicia bares her teeth.

“This isn’t your fight,” Alicia tells Luci, swatting her arm aside.

The walkie on Alicia’s belt crackles to life once more, interrupting their standoff, and Casey frantically says, “Alicia, walkers have smashed through the windows on the Rodriguez family’s truck. We need to move now, and you’re the only vehicle with a clear exit.”

“I’m on it,” Alicia promises. She looks back to Al and Luci. “Stay here,” she says. “I mean it.”

*

Clearing the dead from the Rodriguez family’s truck, which now has a busted window, is quick work. It’s just that the moment Alicia’s finished, almost every other walker in the caravan targets her. That’s both good and bad. Good, because it gives Casey and Blake a chance to escape their truck and start helping. Bad, because every fucking walker is coming at Alicia. She glances back at the Rodriguez truck, but they’re full, just like almost every other vehicle in the damn caravan. She just needs to make sure they can’t box her in anywhere.

Alicia lets out a loud whistle, waving the gun barrel around, and she starts leading the dead away from the caravan. She can’t go too far; she doesn’t want to end up lost in the woods, but she can at least try to get the dead away from their vehicles. Casey and Blake are already working on killing them, and Alicia spots Daniel not far off. Except Daniel’s running straight for her – and all the dead she’s trying to herd. Alicia tries to wave him off, get him off course, but he only skids to a stop when he reaches the first walker. He kills it with ease and starts clearing a path until he’s close enough to be heard over the moans of the dead.

“There’s been another breach!” Daniel shouts. “It’s Victor!”

Alicia’s blood runs cold. She nods in acknowledgement and slashes the gun barrel through the face of the nearest walker. She kills walker after walker alongside Daniel, with Casey and Blake working their way in from the opposite side, until the dead’s ranks are thin enough for Alicia to slip around them. She rushes to the other side of the caravan where Victor and John’s truck is parked only to find another swarm of walkers clawing at the truck. Victor stands on the roof, knife in hand, dodging the grabbing hands.

“Hey!” Alicia bellows. Half the walkers turn to her, and even though her muscles are already starting to ache, she kills with a renewed sense of vigor. She vaguely hears Casey say something on the walkie about being good, but they are _not _good over here. Not good at all. Alicia can’t reach for the walkie, can’t take the moments to call for assistance. She has to keep the dead at bay and keep them from reaching Victor.

She can barely keep them from getting her.

The door to the truck is flung open, used to knock a walker away. Alicia’s jaw falls open as John Dorie steps out of the truck, revolver in hand. She hasn’t seen him so much as join the caravan for dinner since June died, let alone fight walkers. But here he is.

“Go!” he yells, waving Alicia aside. But Alicia can’t go. She has to actively work to overcome the shock of seeing John doing something other than sulking in the truck. Victor is still trapped atop the truck. And there are too many walkers still. She spears one on the gun barrel as John empties his revolver into the walkers around them.

The gun barrel doesn’t immediately come free from the walker’s skull. Alicia’s met with resistance when she tries to pull it back, and she struggles to swallow down the panic rising in her throat. Hands grasp at the back of her shirt, and she knows a set of teeth can’t be far. She hears the door of the van bang against the side, hears boots on the steps, and hears Al yelling. She sees Victor hop down onto the hood of the truck from the roof, watches him kick a walker in the face.

And she hears John Dorie shouting in the moments before she slams to the earth. She loses her grasp on the gun barrel, and it’s left sticking out of the walker’s eye socket. Alicia scrambles to sit up, to defend herself, but she realizes she was just in the way. John must’ve run out of bullets, because he tackled the walker, which sent Alicia sprawling. And now John’s tangled with the walker in the grass.

Al reaches Alicia’s side, and Alicia takes her hand, allowing Al to yank her back to her feet. Alicia grabs the walker coming at her by the front of the shirt and flings it to the ground, buying herself a few seconds at least. She puts her boot against the chest of the walker with her gun barrel in its eye and rips it free with a grunt. Al’s behind her, shoving the trench spike through the skull of the walker tussling with John. Victor’s finally able to get off the truck and join the fight, and together, Alicia, Al, and Victor wipe out the remaining walkers, leaving nothing but motionless bodies in their wake.

Victor exhales heavily, swiping at the sweat on his brow with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry,” he finally says.

“Are you okay?” Alicia asks.

“I am now.”

Alicia turns to Al, to the grim expression on her face, and Alicia suddenly feels like she could cry. She drops the bloodied gun barrel to the ground and throws her arms around Al’s neck, squeezing her eyes shut. Al drops her face to Alicia’s shoulder and exhales in relief, holding on just as tightly as Alicia is.

“I hate to intrude on your moment,” Victor says, stepping around Al and Alicia to offer a hand to John. “But there’s a problem.”

Alicia forces herself to let go of Al and picks the gun barrel back up. She turns to face Victor and John, and her heart drops when she sees the blood on John’s shoulder.

“No,” Alicia whispers. “John, _no_.”

John smiles for the first time since June died, probably, and pulls his hat from his head. “At least my death gets to mean something,” he says. “Take care of yourselves.”

“John!” Alicia shrieks. She lunges for him, but it’s much too late. He’s already got the revolver under his chin. Al locks her arms around Alicia as the gunshot rings out. She’s marginally stronger than Alicia, just capable of holding her back even as she tries to fight her way free. John’s body hits the ground, and Alicia stops struggling.

Al inhales raggedly but manages to murmur in Alicia’s ear, “It’s okay. It’s what he wanted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's title is from I Know I Know I Know. I have LOTS of work this semester, but I promise I'll be working on the last few chapters, and I'll get them out as soon as I can.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


	6. my misery's so addictive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way longer than I expected, but school's getting in the way more than I anticipated. Anyway, here's the chapter. I hope you enjoy it.

Al drives the van for the first time in weeks. She glances over at Alicia every couple minutes, but she stays curled up in the passenger’s seat, arms wrapped around her legs, and stares out the side window. Al’s eyes lift to the rearview mirror, and she manages to catch a glimpse of Luci in the back, sitting with her hands clasped together between her legs.

No one speaks. Even the walkie is silent.

The moment the caravan settles, it starts to pour. How fitting. Nevertheless, Alicia gets up to secure the caravan for the night, pulling her hood onto her head, and Al doesn’t bother to try to stop her from going. Alicia makes it quick, and the moment she steps back into the van, she starts shedding her sopping wet clothes. Luci hands Alicia a stack of dry clothes, and Alicia nods in acknowledgment and gets dressed.

In spite of the relentless rain, there’s a knock on the back of the van. Alicia pulls her shirt over her head and pulls the door open, allowing for Strand to push his way inside.

“Room for two more?” he questions. Charlie pops up behind him, shielding herself from the rain with a jacket she’s holding over her head.

“Why not?” Alicia says softly.

“I brought a present,” Strand continues. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out an unopened bottle of whiskey. “Apparently John had a stash of his own. Well, just this. And he never opened it. I figured we could toast our fallen friends.”

“With whiskey?” Charlie asks.

“We make do with what we have,” Strand replies. “So what do you say?”

He looks first and foremost to Alicia. Soon, all eyes are on her, and Alicia shakes her head then shrugs. “Fine,” she agrees. “A toast.”

Strands nods and opens the bottle. He holds it above his head and says, “To John and June. They’ll be missed.”

He swallows a mouthful then passes the bottle to Alicia. She hesitates a half second but follows Strand’s lead before handing the bottle to Al. Al passes to Luci, then Luci dares to offer the bottle to Charlie.

“Wait, really?” Charlie says. “John said not until I’m twenty-one.”

“John isn’t here,” Luci says. “One sip won’t kill you.”

Al smirks, crossing her arms over her chest. “It might,” she says playfully.

“Okay, no,” Alicia says. “We can’t let a twelve year old drink.”

“It’s not even a full shot,” Al dismisses.

Alicia shoots her a glare then says, “After tonight, I’m banning alcohol. I mean it.”

“Good luck,” Strand snorts. “As if we don’t all have something hidden somewhere.”

“I’ll enforce it,” Alicia snarls.

“Then we better finish this bottle quickly,” Luci says. “Go on, Charlie.”

Charlie looks to Alicia for permission, but Alicia shakes her head and drops down onto the seats behind her. She doesn’t react to Al sitting beside her or slinging an arm around her shoulders.

Charlie takes a tentative sip of the whiskey and almost immediately chokes. Strand rushes to save the bottle before Charlie has the chance to drop it. “That’s disgusting!” Charlie exclaims.

“See?” Luci says. “We just prevented Charlie from ever being an alcoholic.”

Alicia rolls her eyes and leans into Al’s touch. Luci and Strand sit across from them, sliding to make room for Charlie, who still looks thoroughly grossed out. Strand takes another gulp before Luci fights him for the bottle, and Alicia sighs.

“Don’t hog it,” Alicia says, surprising Al.

“I haven’t had a drink in months,” Strand argues.

“Neither have I,” Alicia retorts. “And you haven’t been leading the caravan.”

“No,” Strand concedes, “but I’ve been watching John like a hawk since the day June died. The poor son of a bitch ended up dead in your place anyway, so what does it matter?”

Al feels Alicia flinch, and Al stands and yanks the bottle away from Strand. “Go wild,” Al tells Alicia, bottle held out. Alicia takes it without hesitation then pulls Al back down beside her. Al looks around for a moment, watches Luci steal a bottle of Pepsi from Al’s personal stash so Charlie doesn’t feel left out, watches Strand twist the bottle open for her, watches Alicia slam back whiskey, and she can’t stop herself from blurting out, “It could just be us.”

“What?” Luci asks.

“We could leave,” Al says. She grasps onto Alicia’s shoulder. “Take the stress off Alicia. Stop ourselves from continuing to die one by one. Throw Logan off our trail. We could take off in the van and leave all our problems behind.”

“Are you serious?” Strand asks.

“Dead.”

“We can’t leave,” Alicia says weakly. “What about Daniel?”

“Take him with.”

“The kids?”

“Not our problem,” Al points out. “We’ve got our kid.” She points a finger at Charlie and grins as Charlie blushes. “Think about it. Morgan died and left us with his project – his problem. Why should we keep it?”

“This is crazy,” Luci says. “All these people depend on us.”

“All these people, together all the time, creates more problems than it solves,” Al says. “The dead follow us constantly. Logan’s always lurking around somewhere not far behind us. Luci and I have turned into alcoholics, people keep dying – point is, there’s always some kind of problem somewhere, and the solution is _less people_.”

Luci looks hesitantly to Strand then to Alicia. Alicia, in response to Al, drinks more whiskey. “Maybe this isn’t the time to discuss this,” Luci says quietly. “Not right after we lost John.”

“Then when is the time?” Al questions. “When we lose you? Or Strand? We’re here, right now, and we can easily call in Daniel –”

“You think he’ll agree?” Luci asks.

“I think he’ll see we’re on a sinking ship,” Al says. “And I think it’s time to abandon it.”

“We can think about that when we’re sober,” Strand says. “Now pass that bottle back here.”

*

Al wakes up feeling like she’s being crushed. Something’s lying on her right arm, and something’s definitely on her chest. Her left hand rests beside her, prickling with pain like it always does, but Al’s mind is foggy enough to mostly ignore it. Al blinks herself awake and lifts her head, looking first to her chest. She’s not surprised to see Alicia’s hair splayed out, so she looks to her right arm, only mildly surprised to find Luci using it as a pillow. It’s in that moment that Al realizes they’re on the floor.

She grunts, and Alicia rolls off of her chest, allowing Al to breathe a little easier, but she’s getting dangerously close to Al’s hand. Thankfully, she stops rolling and gives Al the chance to groggily look around the van. Strand’s passed out and snoring on one side, and Charlie’s curled up under a pile of blankets on the other. For a moment, Al feels content.

Then Alicia accidentally jostles her hand, and the familiar sharp pain shoots up Al’s arm. Al winces, and the moment of contentment is gone. Reality comes back. Al shifts until Alicia starts to stir, groaning, and Al frees her arm carefully.

“Shit,” Alicia hisses. “It’s late, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Al says. “The sun’s up.”

“And we passed out on the floor,” Alicia complains. She pushes herself up to her knees but hesitates. “God, why did you let me drink so much?”

“So I wouldn’t drink it,” Al replies. “But I wish I had. Maybe my hand wouldn’t hurt.”

“I’ll get you some Tylenol,” Alicia mutters. “Right after I get myself some.” She pauses. “But I might throw up first. I don’t know.”

“Go outside then,” Al says. “And wake Luci up. I’m trapped.”

Alicia staggers to her feet and pushes her hair back from her face. “Jesus. She’s sleeping on you now, too?”

“Cut her some slack,” Al says, grinning. “I’m the hottest person in the caravan. Of course she’d want to sleep on me.”

Alicia laughs, hard, and manages to say, “Don’t let Victor hear you say that.”

Al rolls her eyes. “Are you getting that Tylenol or not?”

“I’ll find it,” Alicia says. “Shit.” She knocks the empty bottle of whiskey to the ground, and Al hears it shatter. “And I’ll clean that up.”

“I’ll clean it up,” Al says. “You find the Tylenol and make sure the caravan hasn’t imploded.”

Alicia finds the Tylenol and tosses the bottle onto Al’s stomach. “I’ll be back,” Alicia promises, grabbing the gun barrel. She walks out of the van but returns ten seconds later, mumbling about forgetting her walkie. Al takes the Tylenol, shakes Luci awake, and gets up to clean the glass out of her van.

“Take these,” Al suggests, pushing the bottle of Tylenol into Luci’s hand. “It’s all we’ve got.”

“I think Casey’s hoarding the good stuff,” Luci replies. She pauses. “Don’t tell her I told you that.”

Al hums. “Your secret’s safe with me,” she says, but she’s already planning to pay Casey a visit later. If she catches her at the end of her rounds, she might get somewhere.

“I can see you plotting,” Luci says, tapping a finger against Al’s chest. “Knock it off.”

“I’m not plotting,” Al scoffs. “I’m just thinking.”

“Right,” Luci says. “Thinking about what?”

“Leaving the van before Strand wakes up hungover,” Al replies. “I don’t want to be here for that.”

*

Al intercepts Casey between the Rodriguez family’s truck and her own truck that she shares with her boyfriend. His name is something that starts with a B, Al thinks. Brad or Brandon or Brent or something like that. Al has already ensured that anyone that might be an issue – like Alicia or Luci or Strand – are all occupied. So she tousles her hair and pops the top few buttons on her shirt and hopes Casey has at least a tiny bit of interest in women as she approaches.

Casey walks with a purpose, nudges her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and sets eyes on Al right as Al plasters on the most charming smile she can muster up.

“Casey,” Al greets, forcing her to stop walking.

Casey eyes her warily. “Al,” she says. “What’s up?”

Al stares into Casey’s pale blue eyes, smiling. “You have a minute?”

“Is something wrong?” Casey asks.

“Apart from the usual, no,” Al answers. “I just had a question.”

Casey sighs and brushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Sure,” she says. “Just give me a minute. I’ll be right with you.”

Al nods and waits for Casey to drop her stuff off at her vehicle with Brad/Brandon/Brent or whatever. She double checks that everyone that needs to be out of the way is, and then some. Strand, Luci, and Charlie haven’t shown any signs of leaving the van. Alicia’s tied up with Daniel, something about the perimeter. And the word has already spread throughout the caravan of Alicia’s alcohol ban.

“Come on,” Casey calls. Al follows after her without question, and they come to a stop at the edge of the caravan. Casey holds her hand out, and Al gently places her hand in Casey’s, grimacing as Casey prods around. “No change?” Casey asks.

“No change.” Al smirks, lets her hand rest in Casey’s even though she could pull it back. “Maybe you should amputate it,” Al suggests.

“It healed just fine.”

“As far as you know.”

Casey fights off a smile but tips her head in acknowledgement. “As far as I know.”

“But it’s always going to hurt, isn’t it?” Al asks.

“I don’t know,” Casey admits. “But it will for now, since Alicia’s banning alcohol.”

Al grunts. “Don’t remind me.”

Casey’s eyebrows quirk upward, and she releases Al’s hand gently. “Maybe if you and Luci had any self-control –”

“I have plenty of self-control,” Al cuts in.

“Then you don’t exercise it,” Casey says smoothly. She crosses her arms over her chest. “Please, tell me why you’re here, Al. Definitely not for your hand. I’ve told you: I can’t do anything else.”

“Except cut it off.”

Casey snorts. “That’s not why you’re here.”

Al smiles. “No. I heard a rumor.”

“A rumor?”

“Something like that,” Al says. This will work, she tells herself. She can already see the doubt on Casey’s face, already knows Casey’s anticipating a question about drugs. So Al turns to the side, pulls her shirt up to just under her breast, and says, “You speak Swedish?”

Casey balks. “I _am _Swedish,” Casey says. “If that answers your question.”

“My girlfriend was Swedish,” Al says offhandedly. But thinking about Sawyer makes her mouth go dry. “I don’t know what it says,” Al admits. “I was hoping you’d tell me.”

Casey reaches over and tugs Al’s shirt down. “It’s a proverb,” Casey informs. “Translated into English, it’s roughly _away is good but home is best_. Makes sense, if what I’ve heard about you is accurate. And I’m surprised you thought you could charm me into handing over any pills I may or may not have. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Al’s jaw hangs open for a moment. “Maybe I just –”

“Save it. You know I’m with Blake, and I know you’re with Alicia. And Alicia has given me _very _specific instructions on how to handle narcotics.”

Damn it.

“That’s not even close to true,” Al argues.

Casey cracks a smile. “Al. You pulled me aside to show me as much skin as possible under the pretense of translating a tattoo in hopes that it would somehow make me want to give you drugs. Next time, don’t come in so hot. Maybe I won’t figure it out right away.”

Casey pats Al on the arm and steps around her, leaving Al to stare in disbelief as she walks away. Al shakes off the shock quickly and heads back for the van. She reaches it just as Strand stumbles out the back. Al jumps out of his way, and he walks off without a word. Al heads inside to find Charlie still fast asleep and Luci lying out on the seats across from her, one arm flung across her eyes.

“Do you feel really shitty?” Luci asks.

“I always feel shitty,” Al says flatly. “You’ll have to be a little more specific.”

“Just, like, extra shitty.”

“Not yet.”

Luci groans. “Okay, well, I think I’m not getting up today.”

“Take that up with Alicia,” Al replies. She rubs at her temples, feeling an oncoming headache, and she checks to make sure Charlie’s actually asleep before changing. It’s getting hot – or, at least, Al’s feeling warm. She’s just pulling a tank top over her head when Alicia joins them, squinting against the sunlight.

“I’m sending Daniel and Blake out,” Alicia says. “Daniel remembers seeing a town about ten miles back, and the map confirmed it. Should be a quick thing.”

“Tell them to look for painkillers,” Al says.

Alicia blinks. “No. We’ve got plenty of Tylenol.”

“Tylenol won’t do shit,” Al replies.

“You should give it a chance,” Alicia says. Her eyes flick to Luci. “You good?” she asks.

“No,” Luci says. “I feel terrible.”

“It’s the hangover,” Alicia says. “It’ll pass.”

Al’s not so sure. She remembers the last time she was forced to sober up, and Luci’s been drinking at least as much as she has. The withdrawal’s probably just hitting her first.

“And Casey told me about the stunt you pulled,” Alicia says calmly.

“Okay, in my defense –”

Alicia holds her hand up, and Al finds herself falling silent. “It won’t work,” Alicia says. “Casey –”

“Has orders, I know,” Al cuts in.

Alicia’s expression softens. “She told me about your tattoo.”

“She’s a real snitch, huh?” Al grumbles.

Alicia gnaws on her lower lip. Her eyes flicker between Luci and Charlie. “It’s sweet,” Alicia finally says.

“No,” Al says. “It’s fucking depressing.”

Alicia exhales heavily and nods. “Yeah.”

The walkie interrupts them. “Alicia, do you copy?”

“Daniel, I’m here,” Alicia answers.

“Blake and I are on our way. I’ll report back with what we find.”

“Copy that,” Alicia says. She hooks the walkie back on her belt and presses her hand against Al’s forehead. “How do you feel?”

“Same as always.”

“You’re a little warm.”

Al dodges Alicia’s hand. “I’m always warm,” Al complains. “Always sweating. Always in pain.”

Alicia flinches. “Can you just do me a favor? Nothing too bad, I promise.”

“What?”

“Watch over Luci and Charlie,” Alicia requests. “Strand’s sleeping off his hangover, and it’s just me and Casey while Daniel and Blake are out.”

“I can handle it,” Al assures her.

“Thank you.”

Al nods and kisses Alicia quickly before she leaves the van.

*

Shit goes downhill fast. If Al’s learned anything from living in a caravan full of people – and children – it’s that. She wakes with a start, accidentally banging her head in the process. She winces, pulls her feet down from the dashboard, and looks to the back of the van. Luci’s asleep, and Charlie’s quietly reading, at least until Al clambers into the back and startles her.

“Al?” Charlie says. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Al says, rubbing at her eyes. “Is something wrong?”

“No?”

“Stay here,” Al orders. “With Luci.”

Charlie blinks. Obviously, she wasn’t planning on going anywhere. And she doesn’t take orders from Al anyway. She’s been in charge more than Al has in the past three months. Nonetheless, Charlie nods and returns to her book as Al stumbles out of the van. God, this is so much worse than her usual hangover. She squints against the sunlight, making the headache she already has even worse, and her hand’s acting up. But what else is new?

By the time she spots Alicia and Casey at Casey’s truck, Al realizes she isn’t armed. They’ve already spotted her, though, so it’s a little too late for that.

“Al?” Alicia calls. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Al says. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I came to see – is everything good?”

Alicia’s eyebrows pull together. “Yeah? We’re just waiting on Daniel and Blake, but everything’s calm.”

“You aren’t looking too hot,” Casey comments. She reaches for Al, but Al swats her hand away.

“For the record,” Al says, “I am _always _looking hot, thank you very much.”

Casey rolls her eyes. “Are you feeling alright?” she asks.

“No. Not at all. And whatever I’ve got, I think Luci gave it to me.”

Alicia presses her lips together and exchanges a look with Casey. Al’s eyes narrow.

“I think you’re both going to have a rough time,” Casey says, smirking. “But it’s not anything Luci gave you. I think this is a lovely side effect of your drinking issue.”

“I don’t have a drinking issue,” Al says, because her drinking issue is none of Casey’s goddamn business.

Alicia snorts. “Now that alcohol’s banned, you don’t,” she says.

Casey claps Al on the shoulder. “Sweat it out,” she says. “Drink lots of water. Make sure Luci does the same.”

Alicia and Casey share a laugh as Al heads back for the van. She only makes it halfway there before Alicia and Casey take off running, catching Al’s attention. She’s about to run after them, but she remembers she’s totally unarmed. She sprints for the van instead, scaring the shit out of Charlie as she throws the doors open.

“Oh my God!” Charlie exclaims, dropping her book and clutching at her chest.

“Sorry,” Al says breathlessly. “Where’s my –”

Forget the trench spikes. She grabs the Beretta, checks the magazine, and rushes in the direction she saw Alicia and Casey run in. They’re at Mia’s truck – frankly, Al doesn’t know the names of the people who took Mia in. Even when she sees their faces, she draws a blank. She urges them aside, and Alicia takes a step back from the truck and spots Al.

“Hey!” Alicia says, grabbing a fistful of Al’s shirt to stop her. “Hey. Stop.”

“What happened?” Al asks. “You guys –”

“Al,” Alicia says quietly. Her eyes plea with Al to stop, and Al falls silent. She glances over her shoulder at the family, all crying silent tears. Casey exits the truck, a grim look on her face, and she shakes her head.

“She’s gone,” Casey says gently.

“What?” Al blurts. She manages to get a look at the back of the truck, to see the baby’s car seat in the back, and she figures out the rest. Wordlessly, Alicia holds her hand out. Al stares down at Alicia’s palm until she wiggles her fingers.

“Give me the gun,” Alicia requests. Without question, Al sets the Beretta in Alicia’s hand. “Now take Casey and get them out of here,” Alicia says. “I’ll handle this.”

“Alone?” Al says. “No.”

“That’s an order,” Alicia barks. “Go!”

Al grits her teeth but waves Casey along, and they usher Mia’s family away. They leave them with the Rodriguez family for now, and just as Al and Casey start to walk away, a gunshot rings out. Casey flinches. Al’s entire body stiffens.

“We have to help her,” Al says. “I don’t care if she gave an order.”

Casey frowns and presses the back of her hand to Al’s forehead. “I’m surprised you’re still standing.”

“I’m fine, man!” Al says, ducking away from Casey’s hand and shooting her a glare. “Keep your hands off me.”

As they start heading back to Alicia, Casey observes, “You buttoned your shirt back up.”

“What?” Al says dumbly.

“Earlier, when you thought you’d be able to trick me into giving you drugs, you had the top few buttons undone,” Casey says. She grins. “You were really hoping, huh?”

“Oh, shut up,” Al says.

Casey laughs, and Al lets herself relax a little. “What were you willing to offer me?” Casey teases. “I doubt you have anything of worth, and you can’t really have thought you’d be able to flirt so well that I’d just hand it over.”

“Alright,” Al cuts in. “I get it.”

Casey shakes her head. “I suggest you get it together,” Casey says. “Alicia really cares about you. She cares so much, she threatened to kick me out of the caravan when you were hurt."

Al grunts. “What’s your point?”

“Be there for her.”

Al balks, but they reach Alicia before she can think of something to say. Al and Casey come to a stop, and for a minute, they both just stare. Alicia stands behind the car, car seat set in the grass, bloodstained, gun clutched in Alicia’s hand.

“Okay,” Al says softly. She pulls the gun from Alicia’s hand, jamming it into her waistband. “It’s okay. Casey and I will handle the rest.”

*

Al wishes she hadn’t volunteered herself. Grave digging is hard work, and she already feels shitty. At least if she passes out, Casey’s already here. Casey switches off with her and forces a water bottle into her hand. Al drinks and splashes some onto her face, using it to wipe away her sweat and slick her hair back from her forehead. She slides out of her shirt and ties it around her waist. Al’s eyes flick to the van for the millionth time, and Alicia is still right where Al expects her to be, seated on the top step with Charlie.

“Go ask Alicia if there’s any news on Daniel and Blake yet,” Casey says.

“I think she would’ve told us.”

“Just go ask,” Casey says. “Please.”

Al nods. She approaches Alicia and Charlie slowly, catching Charlie’s attention first. Charlie’s face lights up when she sees Al, and Al fist bumps her and hands her the rest of her water.

“Casey wants to know if there’s any news on Blake,” Al informs.

“Radio silence,” Alicia says. “They must’ve found something good.”

Al nods, putting her hands on her hips. Alicia stares off into the distance. Maybe she isn’t bothered by the radio silence, but Al sure is. She glances back at Casey, finally beginning to shovel dirt into the grave, then holds her hand out until Alicia’s eyes return to her face.

“Give me the walkie,” Al says. “I want to talk to them.” Alicia hands it over, and Al tells herself she’s doing this for Casey. She swallows down her own worries about Daniel’s safety and says into the walkie, “Daniel, do you copy?”

Static.

Al tries again, this time including Blake’s name as well, and waits. She’s aware of Charlie’s eyes on her, but Al’s eyes are on Alicia, on her blank expression. It’s not every day that they have to put down a child – not to mention a baby – and Al can’t blame Alicia for wanting to shut down. But that’s the problem with the caravan, Al thinks. There’s no room for shutting down when you have to manage this many people. Maybe that makes her angrier than their steadily increasing death rate.

“Daniel, Jesus Christ,” Al blurts. “Pick up the walkie.”

“Why aren’t they answering?” Charlie asks, eyes wide.

“I don’t know,” Al mutters. “Maybe they left the walkie in the truck?”

The walkie begins to crackle, and Al hears distant laughter before a familiar voice speaks. Not the voice Al wants to hear, frankly.

“So you guys are starting to take some risks, huh?”

Alicia perks up, eyes locking onto Al’s face. She pushes herself to her feet and seizes the walkie before Al has the chance to respond.

“What the _fuck _do you think you’re doing, Logan?” Alicia hisses. Al grasps onto Alicia’s shoulder in support, but Alicia shakes her off.

“You sent two of your own out alone, Alicia,” Logan replies, as calmly as ever. “What did you expect to happen, sweetheart?”

Al’s surprised Alicia doesn’t smash the walkie then and there. The last time Logan called her _sweetheart_, she tried to fight the radio. Instead, Alicia thrusts the walkie into Al’s chest then grabs a fistful of her shirt and tugs her to the front of the van.

“What are you doing?” Al asks. She breaks Alicia’s hold on her shirt and waits for an answer.

“We’re going after them,” Alicia decides.

“Okay, but maybe we need to consider our options first,” Al says. “Because Luci’s still asleep in the van, and you’re scaring Charlie.”

“We need the van,” Alicia insists. “We need its guns.”

“Alicia,” Al says, grasping onto Alicia’s shoulders. “Logan responded. They have radios. That doesn’t mean he’s done anything to Daniel or Blake.”

“He knows they’re out there alone,” Alicia counters. “So let’s go. I’ll leave Casey and Victor in charge. Help me get Luci to Victor’s truck.”

Al’s not going to be able to change Alicia’s mind. They get Luci to Strand’s truck and send Charlie to stay with Casey before Alicia gets behind the wheel of the van. Al considers that maybe this is a trap, a ploy to lure Alicia away from the caravan, but she also thinks Logan isn’t that smart. If it _is _a trap, they’re about to spring it.

Al keeps the map handy, but Alicia’s gotten good at remembering her surroundings, and she doesn’t need to refer to the map to locate where Daniel and Blake had gone. Though Al mostly attributes this to the fact that a convenience store is up in flames, and the truck Blake and Daniel had taken is parked on the street outside of the store.

“Shit,” Alicia says. She smacks Al in the arm and adds, “I _told _you Logan found them!”

“I can see them from here,” Al replies. “They’re in the truck.”

Alicia parks the van, and Al snags her arm before she can get out. “What?” Alicia says, shaking her arm free.

“What if it’s a trap?” Al says. “What if Logan and his crew are hiding –”

“It’s _Daniel_,” Alicia interrupts. “We can’t just sit here and twiddle our thumbs.”

“Maybe this is what Logan wants,” Al says quietly. “Maybe he wants us distracted –”

“So he can attack the caravan?” Alicia snorts. “Then he’s a real idiot. Come on.”

Al trails behind Alicia, scanning their surroundings for any sign of Logan – or people in general. The store continues to burn, and as they get closer to the truck, Al realizes it’s full of bullet holes. Alicia rushes to the driver’s side and yanks the door open, practically dragging Daniel out of the truck. He drops to the pavement, and Alicia barely manages to ease his fall. He’s bleeding from at least three different places – his arm, his stomach, and his leg. But he’s moving. He’s alive.

He grasps at Alicia’s shirt as Al approaches and peers into the truck at Blake. He’s moving, so relief washes over Al at first. Until she realizes he’s trying to claw his way over to her, jaws snapping.

“You need to go back,” Daniel gasps. “You need to go back now.”

“We won’t leave you,” Alicia insists.

“Logan is nearby,” Daniel warns. “You cannot leave them unprotected.”

Alicia shakes her head, looks from Daniel over to Al. “We can’t leave him,” Alicia says.

“You can,” Daniel says gently. “And you will. Just promise me one thing.”

“We aren’t leaving you,” Alicia says.

“What is it?” Al asks softly.

Daniel looks up at her, a smile flickering on his face. “Take care of Skidmark for me.”

Al nods before her confusion shows on her face, but then it dawns on her. The cat. Of course. The cat adores Charlie, and Al bets Charlie won’t have a problem with taking in a pet. “We promise,” Al tells him.

“Help me,” Alicia pleads. “Help me get him to the van.”

“There’s no time,” Daniel says. He touches his palm to her cheek, briefly, then looks back to Al. “Can you get me my gun? It should be in the glovebox.”

Al nods, but that presents a slight problem. Blake’s blocking her path to the glovebox. She makes her way around and pulls the door open, allowing Blake to drag himself out and hit the ground. She holds him down with his boot and jams the trench spike through the side of his head, grimacing at the squelching sound it makes. Blake falls dead, and Al retrieves the handgun out of the glovebox for Daniel.

“Don’t give that to him,” Alicia growls.

“Alicia,” Daniel says evenly. “It’s time. You can let go. It’s okay. If there is in fact something after this life, I know Ofelia and my wife will be in it.”

Alicia’s lower lip trembles, but she squeezes Daniel’s shoulder and stands. She takes a step back as Al hands him the gun.

“It’s okay,” Daniel says. “You need to go. Protect the caravan.”

“Blake –” Alicia begins, but she falls silent as Al shakes her head.

“Come on,” Al says. “Daniel’s right. We need to go.”

Al pulls Alicia back to the van, guides her to the passenger’s seat, then hauls herself behind the wheel and speeds back toward the caravan. They hear the gunshot, but they both manage to keep themselves together.

“Who’s going to tell Casey?” Alicia finally asks.

“I will,” Al says flatly. She glances over at Alicia, but Alicia stares out the window. “I told you,” Al mutters. “We should’ve split off –”

“Don’t start,” Alicia cuts in. “Please.”

Al nods curtly. “We could still go.”

“No.”

Al sighs heavily. “Call Casey. Tell her it’s time to pack up. We’ve got a serious move ahead of us.”

*

By the time the caravan settles again, nearly fifty miles away from their last spot, both Al and Luci lie motionless in the back of the van. After weeks of heavy drinking, they both need to sober up for good. Charlie has moved into the van, claiming the passenger’s seat, and Skidmark roams free, more than once jumping up onto Al’s chest and scaring the shit out of her. She startles back into full consciousness as he does it yet again, and Al pushes him away once more before swiping her hand across her forehead. It doesn’t matter. She’s sweating through her clothes in spite of the cool night.

If she had the energy, she’d go steal some pain pills from Casey’s truck now that Casey has been taken in by Annie, Max, and Dylan for the time being. Given how Casey took the news of Blake’s death, Alicia doesn’t think Casey should be left alone right now. But Al can’t fathom even the _idea _of getting up, let alone actually getting up. As much as her hand still bothers her, she’s just going to have to take it. Same as Luci.

The sweating is getting out of hand, though. She can’t imagine eating; hell, she can barely keep water down. Alicia wakes up periodically to check on her – and Luci, but she always starts with Al. Wordlessly presses her hand to Al’s damp forehead, to her cheek, hums to herself and offers Al water. Waits until Al chokes some down. Disappears back into the front of the van with Charlie.

Skidmark jumps up onto Al’s chest once more, staring inquisitively down at her. “Someone come get this cat!” Al shouts.

Charlie stirs and pokes her head around the seat, squinting through the darkness. “Skidmark,” she mumbles. She makes clicking sounds with her tongue, and Skidmark launches himself off Al’s chest. “Come here. That’s right. What a good kitty.”

But Charlie falls back to sleep, and before long, Skidmark frees himself and returns to the back, shuffling around and sticking his nose in places he doesn’t belong. He never jumps on Luci, though. Just Al.

It’s the longest night of Al’s life, and she’s had plenty of long nights. Between fending off Skidmark and sweating more than any human ever should, she spends the rest of her time thinking about Daniel, thinking about how the caravan’s losing leadership, one by one. If it weren’t for Alicia – and if Al’s honest, Luci – Al would’ve left a long time ago.

*

Al wakes up with a cat on her chest and a sharp pain in her hand. Her entire body is damp with sweat, but her mouth is unbearably dry. Al clears her throat.

“Look, I know Daniel loved you,” she says, to the cat, “but I am not your bed. Go somewhere else.”

Skidmark blinks. For a long while, Al stares at him, and he stares back. Jesus, she’s losing it. She’s talking to a cat, and clearly, he understands her. He just doesn’t want to go anywhere.

“Go,” Al says.

He blinks.

Charlie climbs into the back and scoops Skidmark up off of Al. “Isn’t he the sweetest?” she coos.

“Yeah,” Al grumbles, rubbing at her eyes with her good hand. “He’s wonderful.”

“Alicia’s already up,” Charlie informs. “Taking care of things. You know. Filling everyone in on what happened.”

“Why aren’t you with her?” Al asks. “I thought you’d become our second leader.”

Charlie cracks a smile and sets Skidmark free. He hops into the front of the van and curls up on the dashboard. Sure, _now _he finds a different spot to settle. “She told me to stay and watch you and Luci,” Charlie admits. “Since Casey…you know.”

“Yeah.”

“You two look terrible, by the way,” Charlie adds. “No offense, but it’s true.”

“Don’t ever start drinking, kid,” Al says. “Just don’t do it.”

Charlie nods. “Alicia said to make sure you take Tylenol and drink water.”

“Of course she did.”

Charlie hands Al the water and the Tylenol. Al forces it down, making a face, then pushes her hand through her sweat soaked hair.

“What’s it like out there?” Al asks, nodding toward the back of the van. “How’s everyone taking the news?”

“That more people are dead?” Charlie questions. She shrugs. “They’re getting pretty used to the regular deaths, I guess. No one’s really surprised.”

“Figures.”

Charlie pauses. “I think they’re losing hope.”

“They should be.”

Charlie’s eyes narrow. “Are you going to do something stupid, Al?”

Al grins and pulls her blanket up to her neck. Despite her sweating, she’s actually kind of cold. “Of course not,” Al answers. “I don’t even think I can stand up. How am I going to do something stupid?”

“I’m sure you could find a way.”

Al laughs then spares a glance over at Luci, sleeping with her jaw hanging open. “Probably,” Al agrees. “But I didn’t sleep much last night, so I’ll hold off for now. Do me a favor? Tell Alicia to wake me when she gets back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to finish this, but fair warning, it may take a while even though it's just two more chapters. I promise I will do my best (and if the show gives us a good episode sometime, maybe I'll write a one shot or something along the way). The chapter title is from Northshore. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


	7. i don't have anything left

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time, I know, but here's chapter seven! I'm so sorry for the delay (and the distractions), but this story will definitely be seen through to the end. Thanks for sticking with me.

Since Daniel and Blake died, it seems like Logan’s constantly on their tail. No matter where they go, no matter how far they drive, he’s always somewhere nearby. The alcohol withdrawal puts Al and Luci out of the game for a while, all while Blake’s death takes a physical toll on Casey. She spends her days lying in the back of Annie’s van, a blanket pulled over her head. She doesn’t eat meals with the caravan anymore. In fact, Alicia hand delivers meals to Casey nine times out of ten. She sticks around to keep her company, of course, but mostly she sticks around to make sure Casey actually eats something.

The moment Al’s back up on her feet, Alicia relocates all the narcotics from Casey’s truck to a location she doesn’t disclose to anyone except for Charlie. She doesn’t even trust Victor with this, and she definitely doesn’t trust Luci. Alicia’s pretty sure Luci’s loyalties lie more with Al now than with her. Especially since they’ve gone through withdrawal together. Half the time, Alicia walks into the van and they’re cracking depressing jokes and laughing weakly and telling each other they look like shit.

Alicia’s tired. The kind of tired that no amount of sleep can fix. While Charlie’s basically back to being Alicia’s second-in-command, Victor also steps up. But they’ve lost Casey, at least in spirit. Alicia hopes no one gets seriously hurt or sick, because Casey won’t be much help. Annie’s beginning to take over for her, but Casey hadn’t even finished med school, so she isn’t the greatest teacher.

Alicia moves the caravan for the second time today, hoping to throw Logan off their scent. After Alicia does a final check of all the vehicles, though, she still hears Logan’s crew on the walkie. They’re still in range. They’re always in range. Alicia sighs and double checks that Harold and Jason are on watch. She spares a glance at Annie’s van, at the lump in the backseat that is Casey under her blankets.

“Watch her,” Alicia had told Annie and Max in secret. “Let me know if anything happens.”

“Are you worried?” Annie asked.

Alicia paused. “No,” she lied. “Just – keep me updated.”

Annie had nodded, agreed, and exchanged a look with Max.

“Coming to bed?” Al mumbles. She slides over, making space for Alicia, and Alicia settles into Al’s arms. Al falls asleep quickly, Alicia’s head tucked under her chin. Luci’s snoring across the aisle, and Charlie’s little reading light is on up front, Skidmark curled in her lap. At least when Alicia and Al sleep together, Skidmark doesn’t jump all over Al. Alicia thinks maybe it’s because Skidmark just doesn’t like her. She’s kind of offended by that.

Alicia closes her eyes. Since taking command, her dreams have been unpredictable. Sometimes it’s still her mom. Sometimes it’s still Nick. Other times –

She’s on her knees, hands behind her head. One of Logan’s shithead followers has a gun pointed at her head, but Logan’s got his gun trained on Al. Alicia scans her surroundings, spots the rest of her friends already dead. Her chest clenches, and she knows in her gut that there’s no getting out of this.

The dream, frankly, does not last long.

Alicia hits the floor of the van hard and groans. Al doesn’t even wake up, just shifts into the empty space Alicia left behind. Skidmark hops into the back and prods at Alicia’s head with his paw curiously. He must realize Al’s alone, though, because in the next moment, he launches himself up onto Al’s back and curls into a ball, purring. Al still doesn’t wake up. Alicia shoots Skidmark a glare and climbs into the front, grumbling to herself. Not only did Al shove her off the seats, but now a cat’s hogging her girlfriend.

Alicia wakes up to utter chaos. Luci’s puking in a bucket; she hasn’t fared as well as Al through the whole alcohol withdrawal thing. Skidmark’s up on one of the shelves, hissing down at Charlie as she tries to shoo him off. Al’s complaining about the noise, therefore adding to the overall noise echoing around the van. The sun hasn’t even risen yet. Alicia hands Charlie a walkie, hanging the other on her belt with the gun barrel, and steps out of the back of the van without a word.

“Hey,” Al calls. “Where are you going?”

“Away,” Alicia answers over her shoulder. She shuts the doors behind her and makes her way to Annie’s van. She taps her knuckles against the window and watches Annie startle awake. When her eyes fall on Alicia, she unlocks the doors and allows Alicia to climb into the back. Alicia steps over Casey and drops onto the last row of seats, leaning forward as Annie looks back.

“What’s going on?” Annie asks.

“I can’t take the noise,” Alicia admits. “I don’t know when everyone got so loud.”

Annie cracks a sympathetic smile and spares a glance over at Max, snoring in the passenger’s seat, then back at Dylan, curled up into a ball. “Alicia, the caravan has always been loud.”

“In the middle of the night?” Alicia says. She shakes her head. “No. I think that’s just Al, Luci, Charlie, and the cat.”

“The cat?”

“Long story,” Alicia dismisses. She looks down at the pile of blankets on the seats in front of her, watches Casey shift but not stir. She supposes she should speak more quietly.

Annie must catch her staring, because she says, “Don’t worry. Nothing wakes Casey up. Elephants could stampede through here and she’d sleep through it.”

“I wish I could,” Alicia mutters. “A stampede would be quieter than what’s happening in the van.”

“It’ll get better,” Annie says, but she really has no way of knowing that. She’s just being optimistic, and for some reason, that grates on Alicia’s nerves. Nothing since Morgan began this caravan has ever once gotten better. Everything just gets steadily worse and worse and –

And maybe Al was right. Maybe they should’ve left before Daniel died.

Maybe they should still leave now.

Alicia looks down at Casey again and can’t help but feel like this is her fault. She sent Blake and Daniel out. She got them killed, even if it was inadvertent. She ruined what was left of Casey’s life. And now she’s going to plan to up and leave her too? What kind of person would that make her?

Alicia’s no stranger to being a terrible person, but she thought she’d changed. She thought Morgan had helped her see what they could be – he helped her see that she could help people, do something good, rather than take her anger out on everyone around her.

But the caravan is Morgan’s project, and Morgan is dead. Alicia doesn’t even know everyone’s names. She tries her best, but she can’t do this much longer. Even with Charlie helping her, she can’t do it. It’s going to kill her – and everyone she cares about.

“You look like you’re thinking really hard about something,” Annie observes.

Alicia grunts. “Nothing important,” she lies. “You mind if I spend the rest of the night here?”

“I don’t mind,” Annie says. “But the rest of the night is only about another hour.”

Alicia sighs and lies down. By the time she falls asleep, the sun is already rising.

*

Alicia returns to the van after doing her morning check of the caravan. She finds Luci and Al passed out once more. Charlie’s in the passenger’s seat, reading, and Skidmark is stretched out across Al’s back again, gently pawing at her hair. Al doesn’t wake up, not even when the back doors slam shut.

“Time to move,” Alicia announces over the walkie.

“Where’d you go?” Charlie asks as Alicia buckles herself in behind the wheel.

“Annie’s van,” Alicia says.

“Why?”

She shrugs. “No reason.”

“You seemed kinda irritated.”

Alicia huffs. “You guys are loud.”

Charlie smiles sheepishly. “Sorry?”

Alicia waves the apology off. “Don’t worry about it.”

As Alicia starts the engine and leads the caravan off, Charlie asks, “How’s Casey doing?”

“Same as she’s been since Blake died.”

“That wasn’t your fault, you know,” Charlie says.

Alicia shoots her a disgruntled look. “Everything’s your fault when you’re the leader,” she replies.

Charlie doesn’t argue.

*

Alicia secures the caravan for the night and locks up the van. Charlie must’ve told Luci and Al about Alicia’s complaint about the noise level in the middle of the night, because the van is eerily quiet. Even Skidmark, who Al has to shove off the seats every few minutes, is quiet.

“Does this mean we’re all actually going to sleep tonight?” Alicia questions.

“Yes,” Charlie declares. “Goodnight. Skidmark, come here.”

Skidmark actually listens and joins Charlie in the passenger’s seat. Before Alicia can head up front, Al shifts and pats the space beside her. Alicia settles with her back to Al, lets Al loop her arm around her waist.

“We’ll be quiet tonight,” Al says next to Alicia’s ear, “so you can get your beauty sleep.”

Alicia grunts. “Not all of us get as much sleep as you and Luci, Al.”

“Ouch,” Al says.

“And you shouldn’t even be that tired,” Alicia continues. “It’s not like you do anything around here.”

“Okay, hey,” Al argues. “Luci and I are recovering –”

“From something you did to yourselves,” Alicia finishes.

“If you guys are done,” Charlie says, “I’d like to go to sleep now.”

Maybe it’s going to sleep early that screws them. The thing that saves them, though, is the fact that they essentially live in a tank that no formerly human fist is ever going to get through. By the time Victor storms into the van and shouts something about incoming walkers, the night air is already filling with the screams of the caravan members. Alicia jumps to her feet, shakes off the disorientation from sleep, and grabs the gun barrel. Al and Luci are just stirring, and Alicia points a finger at Charlie and commands her to stay put.

“And keep Skidmark with you,” Alicia adds.

The walkie crackles, and an all-too familiar voice comes through. “You haven’t been too careful lately, sweetheart,” Logan says. “Seems like it’s a case of poor leadership to me. Your people are getting what’s been coming, and maybe now you’ll finally see this whole thing is useless.”

“We’re going to find him,” Alicia snarls, mostly to Victor. “And we’re going to kill him.”

“We have bigger problems to handle first,” Victor says. “Come on.”

*

Al scrambles to her feet and shoves her arms into her jacket. Luci and Charlie both watch her warily as she pulls the trench spike from the shelf.

“You aren’t going out there,” Luci says.

“What? You think I’m going to sit in here and do nothing?” Al replies. “While Alicia’s out there? No way.” She pockets the trench spike then grabs the camera out of the safe. “Get on top of the van,” Al tells Luci, dropping the camera into her lap. “Film it.”

“Al, don’t go out there. Please,” Charlie says.

“I can’t stay in here,” Al says. She shakes her head. “Not while she’s out there.”

*

Alicia sticks with Victor, and together, they keep the walkers away from themselves. Alicia is constantly moving, constantly killing something, constantly searching for any sign that Logan’s in the area. He led the herd here. He must have. And Alicia’s going to kill him if she ever gets eyes on him, but first, she has to save Morgan’s caravan.

Except really, it’s not Morgan’s caravan anymore, is it? As Alicia slashes through the face of a particularly nasty looking walker, she realizes that, apart from her and Victor, there are maybe ten others helping them. And two of those ten are Annie and Max. Everyone else seems to be cowering in their vehicles, as if that’ll save them from the dead.

“What are they doing?” Alicia hisses to Victor.

“What?” he says.

“Annie and Max! They need to get back in the van!”

Victor rips his knife free from a walker and glances at Alicia over his shoulder. “Good luck telling them that from over here,” he says. “I mean, there’s only about a hundred walkers between us and them.”

“I don’t need sarcasm right now,” Alicia snaps.

The sound of glass shattering fills the air just before Victor says, “Face it, Alicia. I don’t think we’re coming back from this.”

“No, we can –” Alicia cuts off as she catches sight of someone tall slipping out of the back of the van. “That fucking _idiot_,” Alicia spits.

“We need all the help we can get,” Victor says. “Don’t be too hard on her for wanting to contribute. But honestly, Alicia –” He stops speaking to kill two more walkers, flinging their bodies aside with a grunt. “We need to decide when to cut our losses and –”

“And what?” Alicia questions. “Flee?”

Victor nods curtly. “Exactly.”

Alicia watches Al kill a walker with her trench spike from the top step of the van. Al kicks the body aside and immediately hones in on Alicia. When Alicia’s pretty sure they’re looking dead at each other, she signals for Al to make her way toward Annie and Max, where they’re making a stand at their van. Casey’s not in sight, so Alicia figures Annie and Max are defending her and Dylan.

“We need to get to Annie and Max,” Alicia decides.

“And then what?” Victor asks. “Say we get there, we save them. We’re going to do that, what, twenty times over? I don’t think so. I know my muscles will give out well before then.”

“What are you saying?” Alicia asks.

“I’m saying, we take the van and we go,” Victor says. “Maybe it’s harsh, but that’s how you survive out here. All these people not trying to save themselves? Not our problem. They can try to drive off, same as us.”

The old Alicia, the Alicia from right after her mother died, would already be in the van, driving off, everyone else be damned. But Casey –

Hell, Alicia owes Casey for doing her best to help Al after the incident with Eric. Leaving Casey to die after everything she did for Al would just be – well, Alicia would never forgive herself for not trying at the very least.

Al, at least, seems to have understood Alicia’s hand signals and is working her way through the walkers toward Annie and Max’s van. Al’s not as quick as she used to be, now that she’s down to one fully functioning hand, but what she lacks in speed she makes up in determination. By Alicia’s (admittedly crude) calculations, Al will reach Annie and Max’s van before she and Victor will. And they’re killing walkers left and right.

“Let’s just get to Annie and Max,” Alicia says firmly. “I owe Casey.”

Victor doesn’t argue.

*

Alicia’s right. Al gets to the van first. She tries to force Annie and Max back inside with Dylan and Casey, but from what Alicia can tell, they both refuse. They keep fighting. Alicia and Victor carve a path to the van, but the walkers are endless. Victor was right. They won’t be able to keep up the fight for much longer.

“Give me the walkie,” Alicia gasps when they finally reach the van. Victor kills a walker with its sights on Alicia. She lets Victor and Al shield her while she makes the announcement. “Go,” she says into the walkie. “Take off. Save yourselves. It’s the only way. We can’t kill them all. If you want to live, drive away. The caravan is officially disbanded.”

“Alicia,” Al says sharply.

“Tell me you have a better idea,” Alicia says. When Al stays silent, Alicia says, “Exactly.”

“What do we do?” Annie asks. Her eyes are wide, darting from Victor to Al to Alicia. Alicia realizes she’s a scared kid, looking to the adults for help.

“Get in the van,” Alicia instructs. “We’re going to go to our van, and you’re going to follow us, okay? Just follow us. It’ll be okay.”

Alicia can’t help but feel like she’s lying, but Annie nods. Annie and Max finally get back into the van, and Alicia and Victor lead the way back to the MRAP, Al right on their tails. The back doors swing open before they get there, and Luci ushers them inside.

“What’s happening?” Charlie demands.

“We’re leaving,” Alicia breathes. “Now. We’re leaving now. Victor.”

Victor nods and takes up the driver’s seat.

“Make sure the van’s following us,” Alicia adds.

“Got it,” Victor says. He looks to Charlie in the passenger’s seat. “Buckle up, kid.”

Alicia drops heavily down onto the seats in the back, and Skidmark jumps off to get away from her. Alicia breathes heavily, unable to calm down.

“There’s not a clear way out,” Victor calls over his shoulder.

“The guns,” Alicia says absently. “Use the – use the van’s guns.”

“We might hit the other vehicles,” Luci points out.

“Plow through them,” Al instructs. “The van can handle a few walkers.”

“Alright. You guys might want to strap in. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

Alicia gets a look out the window at the scattering vehicles. One’s crashed into a tree, walkers surrounding it. A few are noticeably gone, so maybe they’ll make it. Maybe Logan and his crew aren’t nearby, targeting anyone who flees. Maybe most of the caravan will be alive by the time the sun rises.

Alicia checks every couple minutes to make sure Annie’s van is still following them. It’s there every time, but Alicia can’t stop herself from continuing to check.

Al sits next to Alicia, wraps her arm around her neck. Alicia instinctively leans into Al, forgetting the irritation she felt toward her earlier.

“You okay?” Al murmurs into Alicia’s hair.

“No,” Alicia says. How could she be? “Nothing ever goes right,” Alicia says. “Ever.”

“It’ll get better.”

“Will it?” Alicia says shrilly. “Can you honestly tell me you believe that, Al?”

“Yes,” Al says. “We’re alive.”

“And the rest of the caravan?”

Al exhales heavily. “We’ll find a way to be okay with this,” she says. “We’ll have to.”

*

Alicia dreams of the caravan falling. She falls asleep by accident. She knows what’s coming for her once her eyes close and she finds herself unable to make them reopen. Exhaustion shuts her body down, and she sleeps with her head on Al’s chest, Al’s arms locked securely around her.

When Alicia jolts awake, hours later, Al’s arms are still around her. Alicia’s heart hammers in her throat, and she lifts her head from Al’s chest. They’ve stopped moving, and Victor’s snoring behind the wheel. Al’s still fast asleep beneath Alicia. Alicia takes a moment to stare at Al, to take in the peaceful look on her face as she sleeps. For a minute, it’s almost like everything’s okay.

Alicia wants to scream. Maybe it would release the tension in her chest, leftover from abandoning the caravan, forcing everyone to save themselves. Alicia knows not everyone could. She’s no good at being a leader, and when the sun rises, she’s going to tell Victor that he’s going to make all their decisions from now on. She can’t do it anymore.

In the pitch blackness of night, though, Alicia makes one promise to herself: if she ever lays eyes on Logan again, she’s going to kill him. God knows he’ll deserve it.

*

Alicia leaves the van when the sun rises to check in with Annie. To her surprise, Annie’s not behind the wheel. Casey is. She rolls the window down as Alicia approaches.

“You’re up,” Alicia says dumbly.

“I am,” Casey says. “No offense, Alicia, but you look like shit.”

Alicia huffs. “I’ve had a rough week.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“And you know what? You look like shit, too,” Alicia jokes wearily. “We all do.” Alicia’s unable to stop herself from looking to the back of the van. “The kids?”

“Exhausted,” Casey says. “And terrified. Probably scarred for life.”

“What else is new?”

Casey sighs and runs her hand through her hair. She steps out of the van, though she leans into it for support, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s not your fault, you know,” Casey says.

“What?”

“The splitting of the caravan,” Casey clarifies. “It’s not your fault.”

“I told Charlie, when you’re the leader, everything is your fault. I gave Logan what he wanted. I disbanded the caravan in a last ditch attempt to save as many of us as possible – but honestly, maybe that’s not why I did it.”

“Look, the caravan was a bad idea from the start,” Casey says quietly. “Blake tried to tell me that, but I convinced him it would be better for us to join. Now Blake is dead, and it’s my fault for not listening –” Casey’s voice breaks, but she clears her throat and pushes on. “The caravan attracted too much attention from the start. We should’ve seen this coming.”

“Logan interfered,” Alicia says.

“We can’t keep worrying about Logan,” Casey says. “We’ve got four kids. Luci and Al, as far as I know, have not shaken the symptoms of their withdrawal fully. I only just got it together, well, right now. We need to worry about us, because you and Victor are the only two people really functioning. And I have a feeling that’s not even completely true. Like I said: you look like shit.”

“Then what do we do?” Alicia asks. “If we let Logan get away with this –”

“We leave,” Casey says. “We get the hell out of Texas, and instead of being nomadic, we set up a fortress somewhere isolated.”

Alicia shakes her head. “That doesn’t work, either.”

“Well, the caravan idea clearly failed,” Casey says bluntly. “We’ll run out of gas eventually. Sleeping in vehicles leaves us exposed to herds, like last night. Put it to a vote.”

“Shouldn’t we go after the others?” Alicia asks, chewing on her lower lip.

Casey smiles sadly and reaches out to grasp Alicia’s shoulder. “Alicia. At least two of the vehicles were breached by walkers before we took off. People were panicking. I don’t think there are many people left to go after, even if they tried to follow your order to flee.”

Alicia flinches and shrugs Casey’s hand off her shoulder. “No one’s gone until they’re gone,” Alicia whispers.

“Alicia,” Casey says, “They’re gone.”

Alicia inhales deeply, pressing her lips together. “Okay,” she decides. “We’ll put your idea to a vote. But if I ever see Logan’s ugly face again, I’m going to put a bullet in it.”

Casey winces but says, “That’s your prerogative. I don’t think anyone will stop you.”

“Wake the kids,” Alicia says. “We’ll all meet in the van for the vote.” Casey nods, and as Alicia walks away, she spins back around and calls, “I don’t know if I ever thanked you for helping Al – and Luci – so, uh, thanks.”

Casey smiles and tips her head in a nod. She gets Annie, Max, and Dylan up, and they follow after Alicia to the van. Alicia’s glad to see everyone else is awake, but no one’s talking. It’s like implications about what last night means are only just setting in.

“Casey came up with an idea,” Alicia announces. “And we’re going to put it to a vote. Simple majority wins.”

Al sits up, eyebrows pulling together, and she stares squarely at Alicia. “What’s the idea?” Al asks warily.

“We leave Texas,” Alicia says. “Find a place to set up – what did you call it? A fortress. Live somewhere isolated. Stop being nomadic.”

Al and Luci exchange a glance from across the aisle. “Before we vote on this,” Luci says, “shouldn’t we discuss exactly what we’re getting ourselves into?”

“Yeah,” Al agrees. “We’ll have to sustain ourselves if we’re isolated. So what are we going to do? Became potato farmers in Oregon or something?”

“We don’t have to be potato farmers,” Alicia says. “We will have to grow our own food, have a reliable source of water. A place that’s big enough for us all that we can defend.”

“You think we’ll all agree on where this place should be?” Victor questions.

“I think we’ll have to,” Alicia says. “Otherwise, we stay nomadic, but Casey pointed out we’ll run out of gas, and sleeping in vehicles every night leaves us open to herd attacks that – well, we all saw what it did to the caravan last night. So let’s vote. All in favor of finding a place to settle, raise your hands.”

Casey’s hand goes up. Alicia’s does, too. After a long moment, both Al and Luci raise their hands, followed by Charlie. Victor, Annie, Max, and Dylan all keep their hands down.

“I don’t know about this, Alicia,” Victor says. “Stationary settlements haven’t exactly worked out well for us in the past. I mean, even within recent memory, the stadium and the factory both fell.”

“The factory was stolen from us,” Alicia points out. “We’ll be more careful this time around.”

Annie and Max exchange a look as Alicia’s eyes turn toward them. “I think we’re in agreement,” Annie says calmly. “We can’t join a settlement with you.”

“What?” Alicia says, eyebrows raising.

“We can’t,” Annie says. “We need to keep moving. Without our camp – we’ll only stay alive if we keep moving.”

“We can protect you,” Alicia argues.

“I’m sorry,” Annie says. “I don’t believe that.”

“Please,” Alicia says. “Please think about this.”

“We know what’s right for us,” Max pipes up.

“It’s like we told Morgan when you guys showed up in that plane,” Annie says. “You can’t help us. Everyone who’s died on top of the caravan disbanding just proved it.”

They turn to leave, but Alicia rushes forward, calling, “Wait!”

Al snags Alicia’s wrist before she gets far and pulls her back. “Let them go,” Al says. “It’s their choice, their van.”

“I better get my shit out of it,” Casey says.

“Yeah, bring the drugs,” Al says.

Casey grimaces. “Hate to break it to you, Al, but all the drugs were relocated when I moved into Annie’s van. They’re probably in a vehicle back at the site of the caravan attack.”

“No,” Al says. “You’re lying.”

Alicia sighs. “She’s not. They’re gone.”

Before Al’s temper can flare, Luci interrupts, “Hey, we’ll get through this, Al. It won’t be easy, but it’ll end eventually. And we have our friends to help us.”

Al starts to respond, but Skidmark jumps free of Charlie’s grasp and hops straight up into Al’s lap. He rubs his head against her stomach and purrs, and Al just exhales heavily. She pats Skidmark on the back a few times and looks up to Alicia. “You better not leave me,” she says.

“I won’t.”

*

The addition of Casey to the van makes things a little more crowded than they already are. Casey’s forced to sleep in a sleeping bag in the aisle between Luci and Alicia and Al. Skidmark avoids Al as long as Alicia’s with her, so he, at least, sleeps up front with Charlie. He takes to Casey quickly, though, and Alicia nearly accidentally steps on him during their first night.

Skidmark hisses at her, and Alicia just mutters, “Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry. Don’t sleep right where I need to step to get up, then.”

Skidmark plops down by Casey’s face, and Alicia carefully steps around her to get to the back of the van. She slips out as quietly as she can and inhales the cool night air. They drove all day, but they hadn’t made it out of Texas. And Alicia can’t shake off what Annie had said.

_You can’t help us_.

She’s right, and that’s the worst part. No matter how hard they’d tried, they hadn’t really helped anyone. Certainly not themselves. Morgan’s death should’ve served as a warning, but Alicia didn’t take it as one.

It’s her fault. Everything that’s happened is her –

“You shouldn’t be out here,” Al grunts. Alicia startles, but Al grabs onto her shoulder to steady her – and to keep her from falling off the top step of the van.

“You can’t tell me –”

“I mean, without this.”

Al holds out Alicia’s gun barrel, and Alicia reluctantly takes it and hooks it on her belt. “Sorry,” Alicia says.

“Let’s sit,” Al suggests. Alicia does, assuming it’s better for Al to be seated than upright anyway, and when Al puts her arm around Alicia’s neck, Alicia leans into her, resting her hand on Al’s thigh. “You wanna talk about what’s bothering you?” Al asks.

“What _isn’t _bothering me?” Alicia mumbles.

“You can’t blame yourself. You did your best.”

“Did I?”

“I think you did,” Al says. “Do you?”

Alicia shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

“You can’t save everyone,” Al says.

“I barely saved _anyone_,” Alicia retorts. “Last night, I saved the people I care about. I was selfish –”

“What do you think anyone else would’ve done in your shoes? Hmm? The same exact thing.”

“I’m supposed to be _better _than that.”

“You’re human,” Al reminds. “You put the people you love first. It’s what we do.”

Alicia grits her teeth, trying to resist the tears starting to sting her eyes. “I didn’t even do _that_,” she hisses. “I couldn’t save June. John. Daniel –”

“You can’t blame yourself for that,” Al insists. She takes Alicia’s hand, resting on her thigh, in her own and holds it tight. “I don’t blame you.”

Alicia nods, swallowing hard. She narrowly avoids letting the tears in her eyes fall, inhaling shakily. “I can’t lose anyone else,” Alicia whispers.

“You know we’re going to do everything we can to prevent that,” Al murmurs. “It’ll be easier with a group our size. Taking care of a hundred people is much harder than taking care of six people plus a cat.”

She has a point.

“The cat doesn’t like me,” Alicia mumbles.

Al laughs. “Yeah, and the cat likes me too much. I’d trade places with you if I could.”

Alicia smiles, but it fades quickly. “I can’t keep making all the decisions,” Alicia says. “I can’t lead anymore.”

“Then you don’t have to,” Al says. “We’ll vote on everything.”

“And if we tie?”

“Skidmark can break it.”

Alicia doesn’t have it in her to laugh. “I’m serious,” she says.

“I know. And I’m saying we’ll figure it out, okay? We’ll be okay.”

Alicia inhales deeply. “Now probably isn’t the time to ask if what we’re doing is serious.”

Al hums. “It can be,” she says. “I think some things will have to change.”

“Yeah.”

“I think we can work all the details out in the morning, though, don’t you think?” Al says. “Now that the caravan isn’t taking up all of your time and energy.”

Alicia nods. “I guess we should go back in.”

“We don’t have to yet. If you don’t want to.”

“Yeah,” Alicia says quietly. “Let’s stay out here for a bit.”

*

Alicia doesn’t know where she is when she wakes up. The last thing she remembers, she was sitting outside with Al, but now, she’s lying down –

She’s staring at the side of the van. She doesn’t remember coming back inside. Al must’ve carried her. She doesn’t know how Al could have that kind of strength right now, so maybe she went and got Victor to do it instead. Or maybe Alicia just doesn’t remember coming back in. She supposes it doesn’t matter.

Alicia sits up, eyes scanning her surroundings. Casey’s still asleep on the floor. Victor’s driving, and Charlie’s reading. Al and Luci are both up, seated across from Alicia. Skidmark is curled up in Al’s lap, and she actually doesn’t seem to mind it, and Luci’s head rests on Al’s shoulder as she sleeps with her jaw hanging open.

“She’s awake,” Al tells Victor.

“Good,” Victor says. “We’re going to make it out of Texas soon, as long as everything goes smoothly. Then we’ll have to start looking for somewhere to settle.”

Alicia’s eyes lock with Al’s, and Al just smiles gently. When Alicia keeps staring, Al says, “What?”

“I thought you said the cat likes you too much,” Alicia teases.

Al shrugs, strokes her fingers along Skidmark’s back. “What can I say? Everyone likes me. Even the cat.”

Alicia rolls her eyes but can’t fight the smile that spreads across her face. Al grins back, and as the van hits a walker, Luci is jostled awake. Alicia laughs at the deer-in-headlights look on her face, and Luci just mutters, “What’s going on?”

“We hit a walker,” Charlie informs.

“You’re an asshole, Strand,” Luci says.

“Didn’t do it on purpose,” Victor defends. “Sometimes they’re just there.”

“That’s such bullshit,” Luci says, shaking her head.

They hit another walker, and Casey bolts upright. Alicia, Al, and Luci all laugh, unable to stop themselves. It’s not even that funny, but they don’t stop laughing. Casey stares at them like they’ve lost it, and Alicia catches a similar look on Charlie’s face.

“Are you guys okay?” Charlie says. Alicia shakes her head, swiping at the tears that roll down her cheeks from laughing so hard.

“Hey!” Victor calls. “Look at that! We’re out of Texas.”

The laughter dies. Alicia’s eyes land on the _Welcome to Oklahoma _sign, and she inhales deeply.

“We can finally start to put that shitty chapter of our lives behind us,” Victor adds.

Alicia couldn’t agree more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of the chapter is from I Don't Owe You Anything.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


	8. i don't want to know what i'll be without you

Al stands on the porch with her hands on her hips. Her left hand doesn’t bother her the way it used to. She hasn’t fully regained function – doesn’t believe she ever will – but it has gotten better. And she kicked both nasty addictions a while back. There’s a light breeze as the sun begins to rise, and Al inhales deeply.

It’s a beautiful sight, really. Not one Al has ever bothered to appreciate until now.

*

Alicia wakes up alone. She sighs to herself and throws the covers back, knowing exactly where she’s going to find Al.

They do this every morning.

*

Luci steps out onto the porch once the sun has risen to find Alicia and Al the way they’ve been every morning since they moved in. Alicia’s behind Al, chin resting on her shoulder, arms wrapped around her waist. They’re always murmuring something Luci can never hear, and frankly, she doesn’t want to know.

She joins them like she does every morning. Alicia grins at her, and Al says something about this sunrise being the prettiest sunrise she’s ever seen. Luci snorts. She’d believe it if Al didn’t say that every morning.

They stand outside for a good ten minutes before Casey shouts out the window that breakfast is ready. She cooks every meal with Victor, and they’re laughing as Luci reenters the house with Al and Alicia in tow. They’re both still clinging to each other, being gross as always.

“Hands to yourself at the table,” Victor quips.

Alicia and Al just laugh, and Charlie shakes her head and slips Skidmark scraps even though she probably shouldn’t.

They’ve fallen into a routine, but Luci doesn’t mind it.

*

Al turns the camera back on. Luci agrees to speak to her first, and she tells everything Al wants to know. And then some. Luci practically gives her entire life story, and Al listens with rapt attention to every word.

“I think that’s everything,” Luci says. She nods to herself, smiles. “Everything important up until now.”

Al smiles back, nods, shuts the camera off. Al accepts the embrace Luci offers, holding tight.

“Thank you,” Al says quietly. “For telling me everything you could.”

Luci laughs. “Thanks for listening? Don’t make this weird, Al.”

“Too late.”

*

Charlie talks next. Her story isn’t quite as long as Luci’s, but it’s just as painful. Skidmark sits with her the entire interview.

“Skidmark?” Al says when Charlie finishes speaking. “You want to tell your story, too, buddy?”

Charlie giggles. “He’s a cat, Al.”

“He’s a cat that’s seen some shit. Excuse my language.”

*

Victor refuses to be interviewed again, but Casey agrees to talk about Blake as a way to honor his memory.

Al lies awake in bed that night, unable to shut her brain off. Alicia’s fast asleep at her side, breathing evenly.

Al still wakes up in time to catch the sunrise from the porch.

*

Alicia refuses to give an interview anywhere someone else might overhear her. Al settles for locking themselves in the van while Charlie, Luci, Victor, and Casey play a card game inside.

“You sure you want to do an interview?” Alicia jokes. “We could make a sex tape instead.”

Al laughs. “Nice try, honey. We’re doing the interview. Get comfortable.”

Alicia pauses. “I don’t think I can do an interview,” she admits. “Not – not alone. I think – Jesus, I think we should tell what happened with the caravan.”

“We?”

“Yeah,” Alicia says. “I can’t – I can’t tell it alone. I wasn’t there for everything.”

“Like what?”

Alicia winces. “June.”

Al nods solemnly. “Right,” she says. “Where would we even start? What do we have to explain first? The plane? The factory? Hell, do we need to tell the story of when I met Morgan and John, and the three of us met you, Luci, Strand, and Nick? Do I need to explain that I met Madison, and Madison went to create a community? Where do we start?”

Alicia inhales, letting her eyes close. “Well, shit really started going downhill when Morgan died. Maybe we start there and just give a basic backstory.”

Al runs her hand through her hair, exhaling. “This is a real project, Alicia. It’s going to take more than even a couple hours, probably.”

“I know,” Alicia says. “But we should do it. I mean, right? We’ve lost a lot of people. At least telling the story of the caravan helps to preserve their memory.”

Al nods. “You think Luci, Casey, and Charlie will pitch in?”

Alicia smirks. “Maybe if we ask nicely.”

*

Al sits on the porch, Alicia on her left, Skidmark curled up on her right. He’s still wary of Alicia, but they’re getting better.

Alicia links her arm through Al’s and leans her head on Al’s shoulder.

For once, everything feels right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this marks the official end of this project! The title of this chapter is from Someday. Thank you all so much for your kind words and your patience. I'd love to hear your final thoughts in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as I can!
> 
> I'm having a crazy busy semester (it IS my senior year of college, after all), but I intend to keep writing as much as possible, so stay tuned for any new projects that could come your way. You can find me on tumblr at blinkaftermidnight in the meantime!


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